


The Edge of Sanity

by Aussi18



Series: The Edge of Sanity [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Dark Robin Hood, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 120,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: Prince Robin, a man with a dark past and the brother of King Leopold “The Kind” of Misthaven, has always felt the brunt of being second in line to the throne. When Leopold decides to marry the beautiful, raven-haired Princess Regina to sate his insane obsession to produce more heirs and gain ever more power, Robin cannot help but think what a shame it will be to see her beauty wasted and her spirit broken by his entitled elder brother, and in a moment of weakness, he helps her.Forced from her home and into a dreaded engagement to King Leopold, Princess Regina knows that her future will hold nothing but abuse, and although she has magic, she can see no realistic way to escape. Her situation seems hopeless until she unexpectedly befriends Leopold’s younger brother Robin, and when she enters into an agreement with him, she gets more than she bargains for as she starts down a path of self-discovery and realizes just how strong she really is.As Robin and Regina learn more about themselves and each other, their revelations set in motion a course of events that will change the future of not only their kingdom, but may alter the fate of the entire realm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and all chapters will be posted as quickly as possible.
> 
> Dark Outlaw Queen Enchanted Forest AU.
> 
> There’s some sensitive material in here - I’ll try to trigger warn at the top of the chapter but obvi can’t account for everyone’s triggers, and I don't want to give away too much of the story through trigger warnings, so please remember that you have been warned, and it is definitely not my intention to upset anyone with the content.
> 
> Robin has a filthy mouth and he’s going to do sexy, dirty things to Regina (all of which she will like, or prompt, or… beg for) - the smut in this story is MUCH more kink/rough/intense/explorative... than any of my other stories (even SSRH, even FC), so if that's not your thing, turn back now. I’m telling you right up front that this is (mostly) not vanilla. Heed the warning. I'm telling you right now, that there are two instances of anal sex in this. So if that's something you despise, and you can't make yourself skim over it, or skip it, then please, walk away now. Because it's in here. It is. I'm not kidding. 
> 
> A few lines of dialogue may be familiar (e.g. similar to the script). I do not pretend to own those or take any credit for them, I just liked the way they fit. I make no money on this, it's all purely for fun. Please don't sue me, I don’t have any money anyway.
> 
> Beta work was done by a trio of amazing humans: babylawyer, bolt41319, and lanaiskhaleesi. This fic would not exist without their support, ideas, questions, critical questions, sharp eyes, thoughts, so many many things - I cannot put into words how much these people mean to me and how vital they were to this story. Seriously - all the thanks in the world are not enough to show my gratitude.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Violence, blood, gore, murder

_ Prologue _

“I warned you, dear brother - time and time again, I _warned you_ that this would happen,” Leopold chides. “If you had only listened for once in your godforsaken life, I wouldn’t be forced to do this.”

“Leo, please,” Robin gasps, choking on the blood that’s gushing from his split lip. He struggles violently beneath the four castle guards that are on top of him, holding him face down on his belly in the courtyard.

“I will never understand your infatuation with the peasantry,” the King scolds, “A tavern wench, no less. My god, Robin, you are a prince. It is high time you started acting like one.”

Robin can barely see through his bruised, swollen eyes, but he catches a bright pink flash of fabric in his periphery before the small form of a pre-teen girl drifts fully into view. “He said he was going to marry her!” Snow White chirps smugly to her father, “Can you believe that Daddy? She’s a _commoner!_ ”

“All the better then,” Leopold snaps, looking down his nose at Robin. “I shall feel no remorse in removing the temptation for good.”

Marian is crying as she is dragged before the King - Robin can’t see her face but he can hear it past the gag in her mouth, can see it in the way her shoulders shake and tremble. She’s not struggling at all, she’s not fighting or trying to escape, she’s just hanging limply in the tight grip of the guards before they shove her to her knees.

“Please!” Robin begs, “Marian has done nothing wrong, this is between you and me!” He can barely speak beneath the sharp press of a guardsman’s knee in his back, his face is so close to the cold cobblestones that he can hear the splatter of the individual droplets of blood as the red liquid drip-drip-drips from his mouth. Robin struggles again, only to be pressed more forcefully into the rough stones, his cheek scraping against the abrasive surface hard enough to draw blood.

“Done nothing wrong?” Leopold scoffs, bending over so Robin can see his red, wrinkled face. “Need I remind you that this peasant has held an improper audience with a royal? That she’s been whoring herself to the monarchy in a devious attempt to produce a royal bastard? You should be thanking me, brother,” Leopold snarls, “For ridding us of this filth before her wicked ideals were brought to fruition.”

A nearby guardsman hands Leopold a sword - not an ornate sword, no, just a common steel blade with an ordinary wooden handle, intended for use on the “common” woman on her knees, the woman Robin loves more than life itself.

“I love her,” he tries again, tears blurring his vision as he begs for her life. “Please, Leopold, if you spare her I - I - I’ll do anything, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll never disobey you again. _Please_.” 

He’s pathetic. 

A pathetic excuse of a man who is begging like a child. But he’ll do it, he’ll beg, plead, promise - Robin will do anything to save her, to save his sweet, brave Marian.

Leopold frowns and shakes his head in irritation at Robin, then begins to roll up the sleeves on his gold-stitched doublet. “It’s too late, I’m afraid. You’ve forced my hand.” The King raises the sword, gauging the balance in his hand and checking the edges for sharpness as Robin breaks, starts sobbing uncontrollably as he pleads with King Leopold _The Kind_.

“You’re right!” he says quickly, desperately. “You’re right, Leo - this is on me - punish _me_ \- I beg of you, _punish me!_ I’ll do anything, _please!_ ” his voice cracks and the octave jumps up as he babbles, begging and screaming his protests, tears mixing with the blood on the stones as Robin pleads for his lover’s life.

“Don’t you see?” Leopold asks as he steps up to Marian, the sword raised in his hand, a look of pure disgust written across his face as he glares down at her. “I _am_ punishing you.” There isn’t a hint of regret or concern in his brother’s tone as Leopold flourishes the sword before drawing it back for the killing blow.

Robin fights like hell, wriggles and twists and uses every ounce of strength he has to offset the guards holding him, freeing one arm for a moment to reach feebly toward his love. The guards are quick to restrain him again though, and he screams - screams as if death is coming for him instead, screams in absolute horror and gut-wrenching agony _No! No! Nooo!_ as his brother runs the blade through Marian, in one side and clear out the other, before withdrawing the sword and handing it nonchalantly to the guard next to him.

Marian makes no noise except for a soft, surprised grunt. For a brief moment, silence fills the courtyard, then her body falls to the side, dark red blood quickly pooling around her, the nauseating scent of copper filling the air. 

Robin shrieks in horror, fighting the guards, dislocating one shoulder in the process, and the pain is immense, but he will not give up, he will _never_ give up - there is no point in living without Marian. She is his world, his sun and moon, she is all of the stars. There is nothing without her, _he_ is nothing without her. 

The pool of blood grows and grows, and Robin loses his voice, his energy drained and heart completely broken, his screams turning to sobs as he stares at Marian’s body, praying for a miracle, for someone, _anyone_ to help her, until the moment that her body stops shaking, stops twitching, stops moving at all.

The loss of her cripples him, drains him of the will to live. Once the guards finally get off of him, Robin lays limply on the stones, staring at her body until it is hauled away. It isn’t until late in the evening that Will and John arrive, both severely battered and bruised from the King’s displeasure. They drag Robin silently from the courtyard - he can’t stand, his grief is too much - he feels cold, he feels dead inside.

Leopold is right - this is Robin’s fault, Robin’s failure. Marian was his to protect, to love, to cherish, to provide for, and all Robin managed to accomplish was to bring about her death. He fought for her with everything he had and he failed. He deserves to suffer. 

So Robin gives up. He starves his body of food, of water, of sensations; starves his mind of thoughts, of emotions, of interactions. When he is delirious from malnourishment, so weak that he can no longer stand, his collarbones sharp and straining awkwardly beneath his thin, pale skin, John carries him against his will into the village to seek out Marian’s grandmother, an old woman they all call Granny. In the end, it is she who forces him back to sanity, her normally sharp tone softened, her typical gruff attitude lost in her own grief, and she is so different from the woman that Robin has grown to know and love that it manages to pull his attention from his all-consuming thoughts of death. She makes him eat, nurses his broken heart alongside hers, forces him to grow strong and able-bodied once again. 

He doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve her love or affection in the wake of his utter failure, but she cannot be convinced to give up on him, so Robin is forced to go on, to keep living, even though he is certain there is nothing left in this realm worth living for.


	3. Chapter 1 - The Bidding War

 

 

_****Five years later…** ** _

 

 

Chapter One - The Bidding War

 

 

It’s a bidding war.

King Henry’s castle is positively buzzing with excitement as the most important figures in the realm - Midas, George, Leopold, and Richard, to name a few - gather to feast, enjoy music and comedy, smoke herbs, and drink enough alcohol to drown an army with. No expense has been spared to decorate the great hall, supreme linens and huge arrangements of flowers cover every inch of wall space, while the ladies dress in their finest gowns with their best manners on display, smiling and laughing and flirting.

Regina fights down the urge to scowl. They can dress it up all they want, but it’s still a bidding war.

A bidding war for _her._

It’s disgusting to be treated this way, to be groomed like a prized beast then paraded around, purposefully put on display to be ogled, poked, prodded, and evaluated as if her worth is defined solely on her appearance. It makes her so irritated she could vomit.

Regina is a princess, the only child of King Henry and Queen Cora, and she honestly hadn’t expected that this would be her fate. While she knew that eventually, her mother would tire of her avoiding every suitor, (Cora was much too smart to be fooled for long), for a time Regina actually thought that she might not have to marry.

Throughout their kingdom, it is a well-known fact that Queen Cora is skilled in the casting of magic. This knowledge has been shamelessly used to inspire fear, subordination, and order - in short, it has been a very useful tool in maintaining their place amongst the other rulers of the realm. So it was to Cora’s utter delight that at the age of sixteen, Regina began to show signs of having inherited the gift of magic. No expense was spared on encouraging her to learn to control it, to expand and explore her abilities - in fact, it was of such great importance that when Regina turned eighteen, Cora even sent her to The Moors to be tutored by Maleficent - the most infamous and powerful Guardian in the entire realm.

It has been ten years since she first learned she had magic, so Regina had thought that perhaps she wouldn’t need to be married off to some other kingdom, that perhaps she could do as Maleficent does, acting more as a guardian of the realm than as some frivolous, dim-witted, bed-warming harlot that might otherwise be known as “Queen”.

Apparently, she was quite mistaken, because that’s exactly what’s happening today.

She’s seated in the center of the room on a large, gray velvet-covered chaise, the powder blue of her gown a lovely accent against the silver trim of the chair. Her mother spent hours preparing Regina for this - ensuring that her long, jet black hair was tamed into softly falling curls, her makeup applied carefully for the specific purpose of making her look more youthful than she really is, the neckline of the long ball gown low enough to show off the tops of her breasts, which are pushed up and together by the squeeze of the corseted bodice. The chair is raised high enough so that she can easily be seen from all corners of the large room - she is literally up on a pedestal for all to see.

That’s not the worst of it though, not by far. Regina is used to being looked at - she’s beautiful, __very__ beautiful, and she is accustomed to the leering, the licking of lips, and the shameless traveling eyes as they run across her every curve. No, the worst of it is the fragments of _discussion_ that are constantly filtering up to her ears. Discussions of the revolting things that will be done to her body, of the abuse she is certain to endure, and the gleeful speculation regarding which tactics might be best to _break that unruly spirit._ That’s what has her feeling nauseous, that’s what has her fidgeting and fighting down the urge to teleport away from this room full of lecherous, disgusting old men.

But it’s pointless to flee. Her mother has put a barrier spell on the room - Regina knows she won’t be able to get through it without serious effort, and she is well aware that by the time she figures out how to break it, Cora would certainly be able to stop her.

So she sits here, utterly miserable with a completely faked look of stoicism plastered across her face, sipping slowly from a goblet filled with watered-down wine, praying that some catastrophic event will stop this from happening.

She is not that lucky.

It is King Leopold of Misthaven who ultimately wins her - she doesn’t know what he pays or bargains or gives up in order to have her - but it doesn’t really matter. He owns her now, the betrothal accepted by both Kings, the deed of her life transferred from one monarch to the other without delay. Within the week, Regina finds herself standing in the middle of her new bedchambers, in her new castle, in her new kingdom; her entire life in complete disarray as servants and maids scurry about, already starting preparations for the royal wedding, which is set to occur in one month. It’s overwhelming, not to mention terrifying, to have her entire life ripped apart without having any say in it, and she is well aware that it is only going to get worse.

On the day she was taken from her home, Regina had pleaded with her father to protect her from this awful future - King Leopold is known throughout the realm as _The Kind King,_ an ironic play on his true nature, which is said to rival even the wrath of Regina’s spiteful, merciless mother. Her father did nothing, though, and she should not have expected or hoped for anything of the sort. King Henry is weak, has never made an important decision for himself - his soft, sweet personality easy for Queen Cora to control and manipulate, even when Henry is aware of the dangers to his own daughter. So whether Regina likes it or not, she will be the new queen of Misthaven, filling shoes that were once worn by the exceptionally well-loved Queen Eva, who was the mother of Princess Snow and according to all reports, the only person besides Snow that Leopold has ever truly been kind to. Regina is not foolish enough to expect that to be the case with her.

From the second they are introduced, Regina can tell that Snow White hates her. The girl is spoiled, exceedingly arrogant, and obviously offended by her father’s need to replace her late mother, and her displeasure at the situation is written plainly across her face like a badge of honor. Snow makes every backhanded, passive-aggressive comment known to man during their first meeting, and while Regina typically would not tolerate such disrespect, she really wants Snow to like her. She hopes that if she can somehow win the girl over, if she can make her an ally, perhaps the King won’t be quite so brutal in his treatment of his new queen. Perhaps Regina will even be able to tolerate her new life, perhaps she won’t have to dream up a way to escape before she bears the king’s children.

After several days of getting to know Snow, however, it is clear that they are never going to be allies. In fact, Snow is so hateful toward Regina that she doubts there will ever be anything but animosity between them, and though she knows it would be in her best interest to try to remedy that, she finds that she does not have the will, nor the patience, to change it.

On her third night in the castle, things between Regina and Snow get heated at supper time. Regina is minding her business, quietly eating when a servant refills her goblet with water, and when Regina thanks him, Snow finally pushes her past her breaking point.

“In this kingdom, a _proper_ royal would never thank a servant,” Snow says haughtily, “It is an honor to be given the opportunity to serve us.” The girl turns to her father and adds conspiratorially, “Yet another thing she’s ignorant of, Daddy. I don’t know how we will ever be able to teach her proper manners. It’s as if she was raised by animals.”

It’s been three days of this. Three full days of the horrible brat picking and picking and picking at Regina, and she can’t take it anymore. Regina is a princess, just as rightfully as Snow, and she will soon be Queen. She has had more than enough of this ridiculous game, and though she knows the King will punish her for it, she can’t stop her temper from flaring.

“Better to be raised with the animals, than without a mother to teach me to be respectful of others,” she snaps, holding eye contact with Snow. “A lesson you are certainly lacking, my dear.”

Snow opens her mouth to respond, but when Regina raises her eyebrows challengingly at the younger woman, her dark brown eyes flashing her irritation, a small, magical flame flickering along the tips of her fingers, Snow snaps it shut once more. Someone - a man from the sound of it - chokes on their drink and sputters a boisterous, gravelly laugh at the other end of the table, and Snow’s face turns a bright shade of red, her embarrassment so acute that she immediately pushes back from the table and runs from the room.

“You’ll keep your tongue in check, Regina,” Leopold snarls nastily, “Your status will certainly not save you from a thorough lashing if you continue to upset my daughter.”

“I’ll gladly take the lash if it ensures I don’t have to sit through another minute of her puerile behavior,” she retorts, before she can think better of it.

It’s the wrong thing to say, and as Leopold’s face reddens, Regina suddenly realizes that the lash is the least of her worries.

“If it is solitude you crave,” he growls, grabbing her around the bicep and pulling her roughly out of her chair, “Solitude you shall have.”

The King drags her through the castle, around twists and turns, down long, unfamiliar corridors, then up, up, up a winding, stone staircase. When they reach the top, he is wheezing and panting loudly, obviously not in shape to have dragged her all this way then climbed several flights of stairs, and she has to bite her cheek to keep from smirking. At least she knows that her future doesn’t hold entire nights filled with insatiable fornication - Leopold looks like he might keel over right here.

He pulls out a large, ornate key and Regina can feel the magic that radiates from it, can even feel her mother’s signature aura woven through it. It seems that the King came prepared for her insubordination. He twists the key in the lock and the heavy wooden door swings open, and Leopold thrusts her into the room in front of him.

“It is three and a half weeks until we wed,” he says, still winded. “I do hope you enjoy your solitude until then.”

A wave of panic rushes through her. He plans to keep her locked in this tower for almost a month? Surely she will go mad - she’d rather have the lash ten times over than be locked away in this dank, cold room.

“I’m sorry,” she tries, “I did not mean to disobey you, Your Majesty,” she curtsies, her head obediently bowed. “I will behave,” she continues, “I swear it, I will not step out of line again, __please__ do not lock me away.”

Leopold smirks, drags his eyes over her in victory, then gloats, “Not so spirited now, are you?”

“Please,” she begs, “Please, I’ll obey, I swear it, please.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this,” he says condescendingly. “You shall not be seen, nor heard, nor spoken to until our wedding day, after which you will spend your nights making this up to me.” The King smiles lecherously before he turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She hears the twist of the magic key, and pure despair takes over her. Regina tries to teleport and sure enough, she is unable to - while she is able to use rudimentary spells, no matter what she does, she is unable to escape from the room. With tears in her eyes, the reality of the situation sets in, and she sinks to the floor, certain she will not be able to survive her sentence of being trapped alone in the damp, dark tower.

 

 


	4. Chapter Two - The Introduction

 

 

Chapter Two - The Introduction

 

 

When Robin learns of the soon-to-be queen’s punishment, it irritates him to no end. A month of solitary confinement in the westward tower for simply giving Snow a bit of her own medicine? It’s bloody preposterous. His brother has always been exceedingly cruel, but this is harsh even for him.

Robin has felt the brunt of Leopold’s solitary confinement punishments before. He’s even been locked up in the westward tower for it, which is how he knows what a pit it is. It’s cold and damp, for it overlooks the lake, and even in the heat of summer, it stays so chilly that he knows without a doubt that the woman is likely to be frozen into a bout of pneumonia if she doesn’t get help. He knows she has magic - he saw her make fire in her hand when she put Snow in her place - but without any logs to burn in the hearth, it will do her little good.

He doesn’t know much about her other than her name and the kingdom from which she hails, but from the little he has seen or overheard of her, he thinks she might actually be a decent person. She seems intelligent and perhaps bit sarcastic, and she’s either bloody stupid, or exceedingly brave to snap at Leopold when he threatened her, but Robin’s gut tells him she is the latter, and that is an admirable trait for certain.

Of course, he has also noticed that Regina is quite beautiful, and thankfully not a child - she’s in her mid-twenties he thinks, possibly even late twenties, and he is glad of it. His brother is a pig - Robin knows of Leopold’s intentions to fuck her into the ground, to create as many heirs as possible, his paranoia of late driving him to take drastic measures, such as selling off half of his militia for a woman he was promised is more than fertile. Robin wonders what her children might look like if she survives Leopold’s abuse. Regina is much more beautiful than Eva was, and Robin wonders if her children will have her thick, jet black hair, her perfect, straight teeth, and expressive, dark, chocolate-colored eyes. The mental imagery pulls this odd little string of his heart, and he realizes that he might actually like to see that.

Aside from the potential of producing some seriously adorable children, however, it makes Robin shudder to think of all the other awful things that her future will entail. Regina seems to be smart, brave, and perhaps a bit audacious, and when paired with her beauty, Robin can only think that it is such a shame that she will be wasted on a man like Leopold. He wonders how long it will take for the King to break her, and finds himself siding with her, hoping she puts up a good fight.

So against his better judgement, he packs a large satchel of provisions - jerky, cheese, nuts, and wine, a few wool blankets, some kindling and a small stack of hardwood logs that he knows will burn slowly - will at least get her through the night - and he makes his way to the tower, quick, quiet, and completely unseen.

The door to the room at the top of the tower is locked, just as he knew it would be, so Robin unrolls his little pouch of lockpicking tools, sorting through the pins until he finds the right ones. This lock is tricky - it took him almost two days to get out when he was locked up here, so he remembers well that there’s a specific pair of pins that work best with the wide keyhole and rusty old tumblers.

There is no sound on the other side of the door, and as he works the pins around, the clank of metal upon metal seems unnaturally loud in the cool, stone stairwell. It takes him a minute - the tumblers are in worse condition than he remembers, and he cannot risk breaking his pins - but after some finagling and an extra dash of patience, everything finally clicks into position and the door swings free.

He picks up his satchel and quietly slips into the room, tugging the door closed behind him before dropping to his knees to re-lock the door from the inside. It’s risky for him to be here, and if a guard comes to check the door, it needs to be locked.

“Whatever your intentions are, I highly recommend that you reconsider.” Regina’s voice is low but surprisingly menacing, causing him to pause his tinkering to look for her.

“I have magic,” she continues, “I am well practiced and I will not hesitate to use it.”

The Princess is on the far side of the room, her back pressed firmly against the curved stone wall, and fire flickers across her palms as she tilts her head, awaiting his response.

When a minute ticks by and she raises her eyebrows in expectation of an answer, Robin suddenly realizes he hasn’t said a word - he’s still planted on his knees by the door, the hood of his cloak up and obscuring his face, as he stares at her like a complete blockhead.

“My apologies for the unannounced intrusion, milady,” he says softly, pulling down his hood so she can see him. “I mean you no harm - quite the contrary, I have brought a few things to make your stay a bit less uncomfortable.”

“You needn’t have,” she remarks, her gaze sharp and suspicious. “I am more than capable of ensuring my own comfort.”

Robin smirks - she’s quite feisty, and judging by the state of things in the tower, she’s not kidding. The room is actually quite warm, a large fire in the hearth gives off a good amount of heat and light, the old, broken pieces of furniture that used to clutter the room are gone, and there is a small bed of blankets on the floor in front of the fire. He looks to the hearth and realizes that she used the random debris as fuel - and he’s admittedly impressed with her troubleshooting.

He looks back to the door for a moment and twists the pins quickly, re-locking it, then turns around to face her. Regina speaks as if she is unafraid, but he can tell she’s wary of him, and he can’t blame her for it. In an attempt to make himself less threatening, he shucks his cloak and sets it next to his lockpicking set, then shifts so that he’s sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the large wooden door as he says, “I have no doubt of your capabilities, Princess. But now that I’m here, you might as well have a look at what I’ve brought you, yeah?”

He slides the bag forward on the floor, then kicks it a bit further, so that she doesn’t have to get too close to him to see what’s in it. He doesn’t know why he’s being so careful with her, there really isn’t a reason for him to be overly kind, but he surmises that he’s driven by some sense of pity or guilt. This transition cannot be easy for her, and it’s only going to get worse once she is Queen.

Regina stares at him, her eyes narrowed as he relaxes back against the door. He’s certain she won’t hurt him - he honestly means her no harm and she doesn’t seem the type to inflict injury without good reason. When his satchel starts to move on its own, however, Robin startles, watching in awe as the large pack scoots quickly across the floor toward the Princess as if towed by an invisible rope.

When the pack is within reach, she catches his eye as she crouches down to sift through it. There is amusement gracing her fine, feminine features, and perhaps a bit of pride, and he can’t help himself, he laughs quietly and praises, “Well that’s a handy little trick now, isn’t it?”

A small, tight smile quirks her lips upward as she silently unties the satchel and takes inventory of the items. He wonders what she looks like when she _really_ smiles, wonders if her nose scrunches, if there are lines at the corners of her eyes that crinkle. He once again has to admit that she really is quite pretty.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like for food.” His voice blends in with the crackling of the fire, so he adds a bit more volume as he offers, “So if there is something else you prefer, I can try to get it for you for next time.”

She makes this low _Mmm_ in her throat in acknowledgement of his offer, and Robin’s stomach drops out, his eyes accidentally drifting to the low-cut neckline of her gown as a spark of arousal flares in him. _Christ_ , that was a hot little noise. Does she realize what a sound like that does to a man?

“This is…” she starts, her brow furrowed as she takes the items out of the pack and stacks them in a little pile, “This is very kind, thank you.”

Robin gives her a lopsided smile, which he realizes is probably quite dopey looking, but he can’t help it as he says, “It’s my pleasure. And don’t worry, I haven’t poisoned the food, it’s quite safe.”

Regina snaps her eyes to his in suspicion, and he realizes he just alluded to the fact that he _could_ have poisoned it, and boy, wasn’t that an incredibly stupid thing to do?

“Not that the food would be poisoned, there isn’t much point in that now is there? Can’t drive you mad with solitude if you’re too poisoned to notice,” he adds.

The princess tilts her head and furrows her brow as she gives him a look of complete disbelief, and he’s instantly horrified at his own words. Oh god. Stop-talking-stop-talking-stop-talking.

Robin cringes. “Not that _I’m_ trying to drive you mad. I’d never dream of it, truly, I was referring to Leo of course…” Regina’s mouth opens in shock as he continues to babble like a buffoon. “Not that he’d want you poisoned, I’m sure he wants you healthy for the wedding night and… all of that...”

Robin finally, _finally_ clamps his mouth closed with a grimace. Dear Lord, why can’t he just shut up?

“Is there something wrong with you?” She asks, clearly offended. “What on earth would possess you to say such things?”

He curses under his breath, ashamed of himself. “I apologize - I don’t know what I was thinking, that was incredibly insensitive.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Could we, would you allow us to start over?” he asks quickly, his face flushed with embarrassment, his heart pounding in his ears. He’s made such an arse of himself he doesn’t know what else to do.

A tense moment passes, and then to his complete surprise, she laughs. It’s soft and raspy, not high pitched and girlish, and it _does_ things to him that he’d rather not think about.

“I suppose that’s alright,” she agrees, “If you promise not to scare the life out of me this time.”

“I promise,” he says immediately, then gets to his feet. “May I approach you?”

She thinks it over, biting on her bottom lip in a way he finds absolutely adorable, then nods as she steps forward.

“Regina Zara Adela, daughter of King Henry of the Enchanted Forest,” she says softly, giving him a rather nice curtsy.

Robin carefully takes her hand in his, kissing the back of it as he bows before her and introduces himself, “Robin Alexander Balgair, brother of King Leopold of Misthaven.”

Regina makes a little gasp and steps back, pulling her hand from his, and Robin is confused for a moment before he realizes that he’s never actually met her before - he’s seen her about the castle, has shared a table with her once, but they haven’t formally been introduced. So she would have had no idea that he is the King’s brother, and judging from the alarmed look on her face, he just cocked this up all over again.

“Please don't let my status alarm you,” he tries, as she takes another step back. “I can assure you that my brother and I have nothing in common aside from our parentage.”

Another tense moment passes, and he can plainly see fear in her eyes, so he adds, “It appears I have already broken my promise - I swear I did not mean to frighten you with my lineage. Trust me, if it were possible to change who I am related to, I would have removed myself from Leopold's “family” years ago.” Robin gives her a wry smile and continues, “My brother and I are far from friends. In fact, he and I have differing opinions regarding most matters. For example, he thinks himself an honorable king, while I know him to be nothing more than a common toad.”

She’s giving him that look again like she thinks he’s insane, and Robin suddenly wishes he could melt through the floor. What is it with this woman that makes him babble like the village idiot?

After yet another moment of silence, Robin tries a last ditch effort to regain the bit of trust he had almost gleaned. “I can see that my introduction has not made a very good impression upon you. Would you be willing to let me try this once more, Princess? If I can’t get it right this time, I swear I shall never bother you again.”

Regina’s dark eyes are suspicious but she nods anyway, and this time when she curtsies and gives her proper introduction, he answers her with the most sincere look he can muster as he bows deeply, almost comically, and says, “I am Robin. _Just_ Robin. Robin er…” he has no idea what to say, glances around the room quickly for help, his eyes finally landing on his cloak and lockpicking set. “Hood. Robin the Hood, at your service, milady.”

She laughs - it is such a lovely sound - and it makes his heart flip-flop in his chest. _Finally_ , he’s gotten it right. Thank the heavens.

“Robin the Hood?” she smiles shyly, “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of you.”

She’s playing along and he loves it. What an interesting woman.

“Well, no, probably not,” he agrees, smirking. “I am merely a servant of the people, not well known at all, with no connections or relation to anyone.”

Regina laughs again, and it’s like the entire room lights up as she smiles, her perfect white teeth accentuated by the remnants of the pale pink lipstick she wears. _Christ,_ she’s pretty.

“Well then, as one of the people you serve, I’d like to offer my thanks,” she smirks, then continues, a bit more serious. “Truly, though, I appreciate your thoughtfulness in bringing me these supplies.” She pauses, then adds, “And I appreciate your company, as well.”

Robin’s brows shoot up with her admission, and her cheeks flush pink in the firelight as she realizes what she’s said.

He fights a smile as Regina fidgets with some of the trim on her gown - she’s quite cute when she’s flustered. Robin is curious about her reaction, is interested to see if he can get her to blush like that again, but when his mind starts to drift into unsafe territory, he immediately forces himself to stop.

“It has truly been my pleasure,” he gives her another little bow. “But I’m afraid I must take my leave now, I’m not quite sure of the guardsmen’s schedule yet, and we certainly don’t want to get you into more trouble, now, do we?” He gives her a wink and when she returns his devious smile, he breaks into a full-on grin.

Regina agrees with him, and he really must go - the risk is too high to linger, but he promises to return the next day with more provisions. Then Robin takes his leave, sure to lock the door behind him, fighting down a wave of guilt as he imprisons her once more.

He’s in a rather good mood the rest of the day - so much so that when John comments on it at the tavern that evening, he can’t be bothered to deny it, though he offers no explanation. John exchanges a look with Will, which Robin sees but doesn’t acknowledge, and they spend the rest of the night exactly how they spend most of them - drinking, having a few laughs, and gambling until all but one of their pockets is empty.

 

 


	5. Chapter Three - The Apple Orchard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter artwork credit belongs to the incredibly talented @Ankareeda, to whom I cannot express my gratitude enough.

 

 

Chapter Three - The Apple Orchard

 

 

Regina isn’t sure what to think when Robin returns the next evening. He lets himself in and re-locks the door the same way he did the day before, then sinks down against it as he pushes his large satchel toward her.

“Good evening, Princess,” he says quietly, giving her a small smile.

“To you as well,” she returns, using her magic to pull the supplies to her on the other side of the room. She's not afraid of him, not _really_ , but he is Leopold’s brother, and there is definitely something about him that makes her nervous, something she can’t quite put her finger on. Until she figures out just what it is that makes her uneasy, she’s staying as far away from him as possible.

They make small talk while she sorts through the items he brought her. The bulk of it is wood for the fire, but he’s also brought a large flagon of water, a small one of wine, and a variety of food. She’s especially grateful for the food – someone shoves a tray of porridge beneath the door twice a day, but that is positively dreary compared to the cheese, salted pork, mixed nuts, and fruit that he’s brought for her.

Regina doesn't realize she's smiling until Robin says, “It appears I may have gotten something right. Care to fill me in? I’d be happy do it again if it earns me a smile like the one you’re wearing now.”

She feels her cheeks heat and ducks her head. He must have his wits about him today, since he’s able to flirt so shamelessly. She’s not sure how she feels about him being so forward, but at least he’s not babbling again about all the terrors that might befall her.

“Apples are my favorite fruit,” she tells him, buffing one on a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “We had an orchard at home, I used to spend a lot of time there.”

“I’m sorry to say we haven’t an orchard on castle grounds,” he informs her. “But there are a few nice trees on the western edge of the village, that’s where these are from.”

“I wish I could see them,” she says, more to herself than to him, as she looks toward the window. A small slat of orange-red light is filtering in as the sun sets, and she sighs with disappointment. When Regina finally looks back to Robin, he’s frowning, a look of what she swears is confliction in his eyes before he corrects his expression back into carefree nonchalance.

“I could show it to you sometime, if you’d like,” he says quietly, and though she nods her agreement, she knows that that will never happen. Robin seems so kind, so thoughtful, and she wishes she had met him under circumstances where she might entertain the idea of getting to know him better. Realistically though, she knows without a doubt that there’s no way Leopold is going to let her go running around the castle with his younger, thoughtful, extremely attractive brother. She doubts she’ll be allowed to leave Leopold’s bed until she’s produced enough children to waylay his obsession for heirs, and that thought is so depressing that she forces herself not to think about it, instead bringing her train of thought back to the man with broad shoulders and a multitude of laugh lines that make him even more attractive to her.

She admits again that he's very handsome, his hair is a dark blonde that he keeps cut short, his eyes a bright blue that reminds her of the summer sky, and a smirk that just screams _mischief_. He has a beard but it's short, and he keeps a clean edge to it, making his already masculine jawline look even sharper.

Regina wonders if he’s married or betrothed, and whether he’d even have an interest in her if things were different. He’s older than her - not by a lot, but she thinks he might be in his early or mid-thirties, and with Snow White set to inherit the throne, she’s curious as to why he chooses to remain at the castle if he hates his brother as much as he insinuated the night before.

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him these things though, because he takes his leave before she can muster the courage to inquire about his personal life. Regina is sad to see him go. She doesn’t know him very well but he’s doing her such a kindness just by visiting her, by breaking up the endless hours of silence that threaten to drive her insane, and while she doesn’t quite understand his motives for it, she’s not about to send him away.

Robin returns the next night with several books stashed in his satchel for her, and the evening after that he smuggles in a chess set for them to play. He’s decent at chess, (she’s much better), but she takes it easy on him and they spend that evening locked in a competition that runs so late into the night that she’s certain they’ll have to call it a draw for sanity’s sake. In the end though, she makes a dumb mistake and he actually beats her, though he doesn’t gloat like she thought he might.

With each return visit, Regina finds that the more she gets to know Robin, the more she likes him. He’s sweet, if a bit clumsy with words, and on more than one occasion she thinks he might be flirting with her, which she honestly doesn’t mind at all. It’s not like anything can happen between them, so there is little harm in sharing some playful banter to pass the time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Regina’s first week and a half in Misthaven slips by faster than she had hoped it would. Each day that passes brings her closer to her wedding day, which only serves to increase the feeling of dread that creeps into her body, settling in her stomach and making her feel sick, making her feel absolutely hopeless.

The only thing that helps are her evening visits from Robin. Much to her delight, she has found him to be true to his word when it comes to his contrast to Leopold. Robin is even tempered and quite funny once he gets his tongue under control; he’s competitive, intelligent, and of course thoughtful, and she enjoys spending time with him, has almost grown to think of him as a friend.

She looks forward to his evening visits, regardless of their impropriety, and she is no less pleased to see him tonight, especially when he surprises her with a small satchel that contains a change of clothes for her.

Regina is excited until she starts to unfold the clothing. “This is…um… different,” she stammers, completely confused by the outfit he’s brought her - a cream colored long sleeve shirt with a brown, well-worn doublet to go over top, soft brown leggings, and black knee high boots. Regina has never worn anything quite so common in her entire life. “Thank you?” she tries, cringing a little at her poor manners, but unable to fathom what on earth possessed him to bring her _this_.

Robin laughs softly, then thankfully offers an explanation. “I know it’s not quite what you’re used to, milady, but that’s what we’re going for. Can’t have anyone recognizing you now, can we?”

Regina jerks her head up. “I beg your pardon?” she asks, stunned. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

He smiles and tilts his head, squinting at her for a moment before he asks her, “Well, I thought perhaps you’d like to have a look at those apple trees… with me… tonight?”

Her heart floods with warm affection for him. It’s such a sweet thought, and she appreciates that he remembers how she wanted to see them.

“Thank you, Robin,” she says softly, truly touched by his thoughtfulness. Then fear and rationale creep up her spine and her smile falters as she tells him, “But we’re both well aware that I can’t leave this room. If the King finds out…”

“He won’t,” Robin says confidently. “Leopold has taken Snow to the summer castle for the week, so as long as we’re careful, I promise you, you’ve nothing to fear.”

Regina hesitates, wishing she was better at teleportation. The tower room prevents it - that awful magic key limits her - but outside of the room it is a possibility. It takes an enormous amount of energy though, and she doesn't know this castle, doesn't even know where she would teleport to, so it's really not an option for her. She likes Robin, and he’s been so very nice to her these last few days, but she doesn’t believe that getting away with this will be as easy as he seems to think. And she really, _really_ does not want to get caught.

“Come now, darling, you can trust me,” he gives her a reassuring smile. “I would not risk it if I thought there was any chance of us getting caught.”

Regina has never been called _darling_ before. She’s no stranger to affection, she’s had suitors in the past, but they all used her proper title or her name when speaking with her. His forwardness once again sends a little shiver of _something_ through her, her pulse accelerating as he nods encouragingly in the direction of the door. She shouldn’t go with him – she really, really shouldn’t, but before she can protest this terrible idea once more, he opens the tower door and slips through it, telling her he’ll wait right outside for her. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she looks back to the shabby clothes he brought for her.

The next thing she knows, she’s dressed like a peasant with her hair in braids, following closely behind Robin in the dark red cloak he gave her, both of their hoods up as they sneak down the castle corridors toward the exit.

They make it to the stable without incident, and there is a large man waiting for them with two horses saddled and ready. Robin greets the other man, _John_ , but doesn’t bother with introductions, and she figures the less the other man knows the better, so she isn’t offended by it. Then she and Robin are mounted and racing toward the forest, the warm summer breeze rushing past them while Regina encourages her horse to go faster, _faster_ , as she takes in great lungfuls of fresh air.

It’s the first time since she came to Misthaven that she has felt like herself, that she has felt alive.

When they hit the treeline (she beats him by a length, his form really needs work), they immediately slow the horses to a steady walk to travel the wide, deserted paths of the forest. It’s a beautiful night, the stars bright and twinkling, the moon three quarters full and giving off enough light that she can see Robin’s face as they talk quietly.

“Who is John?” she asks. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, she’s feeling jumpy, paranoid.

“He’s my oldest friend,” Robin supplies, “We’ve known each other since we were lads, you’ve no need to worry about him, I trust him with my life and I can assure you, I have good reason to.”

Regina nods, thinking it over for a moment before deciding she trusts Robin on this. He might be brash, but the amount of preparation he’s put into this little excursion makes her sure that he wouldn’t risk involving anyone unless he was certain they could be trusted.

It’s a long ride to the western edge of the village, but Regina is thankful for it. The night is warm, her mount is steady, and Robin is good company. When they finally reach their destination, she immediately feels a familiar sense of comfort. There aren’t many apple trees, but the dozen or so that line the edge of the village are healthy looking and bountiful. She smiles immediately, swinging down from her horse to walk amongst them, running her fingertips across the rough bark of every tree she passes, as if introducing herself to them one at a time.

She pauses beneath a particularly large tree that is laden with ripe, dark red apples, and she carefully plucks a piece of fruit from it, loving the familiarity of the action as much as the taste and texture of the apple as she takes a bite.

“Is it alright, then?” Robin asks, and she startles. For a moment she had completely forgotten he was here with her.

“It’s lovely,” she says honestly. “I wish I could come here every day.”

Robin makes a soft _Hmm_ , in agreement as he steps closer to her. “I wish it were possible for you as well. Were it within my power, I would make it so.”

She looks up at him then, catching his eyes as his soft tone and kind words cause her heart to flutter.

He takes another step closer, a little knowing smirk playing across his lips. “Are the apples up to your standards?” he asks, motioning to the piece of fruit she holds in her hand.

Regina nods, then takes another bite to prove her point.

He’s staring at her in the moonlight, completely unabashed as he reaches forward, tucking a few flyaway strands of hair behind her ear for her. “So beautiful,” he says quietly, letting his fingers curve over her ear and down to trail across the line of her jaw. His eyes follow the movement of his hand, and Regina’s heart hammers so loud against her chest that she’s afraid he might hear it. His fingers drift lightly across her bottom lip, and she freezes, stunned by his actions as he brings his fingers from her lips to his, sucking them into his mouth for a moment before adding, “Delicious too.”

Regina’s face heats with his outrageous flirtation, her stomach dropping out and warmth rippling through her. This is _so_ not appropriate, this behavior is absolutely unacceptable, this is far beyond the impropriety of a few games of chess and a late night horseback ride. She should step back from him and scold him into tomorrow, should give him a lesson on personal space and how, as a royal, he should be well aware of the respectful distance to keep with a lady.

Instead, she doesn’t say a word, and she doesn’t move back either.

Robin leans toward her, his eyes falling to her lips, one hand reaching forward to stroke her cheek as he draws closer, closer. She can smell his pine scent, can see the heat in his eyes as he draws nearer - _oh god_ \- she thinks be might be about to kiss her - _oh no_ \- they shouldn’t, they _cannot_ do that, and she panics, her breath hitching as she blurts, “Are you um, are you married?”

A strange look crosses his features as if she’s seriously offended him, and suddenly he’s pulling away from her as he mutters, a simple, “No.”

Regina feels simultaneously relieved and anxiety-ridden by his answer. It would be easier to push him away if he was married, if she knew there was a lovely woman waiting to take care of him at the end of each day.

She doesn’t want to think about why she feels relieved that there isn’t.

They walk along the trees in silence, listening to the frogs and crickets chirp as Regina admires the different varieties of apples that she can make out in the dark. After a few minutes, however, Robin mentions the lateness of the hour, so they work their way back to the horses, stopping for a moment to gather a few more apples for her to stash away in the tower. She feels a heavy tension between them as he moves to help her up into the saddle, and she wishes she knew what to say to make it go away, to put them back into their light-hearted conversation from earlier. Regina puts one hand on his shoulder as he cups his hands into a step for her, but she’s unfamiliar with the smooth bottoms of these worn boots she’s wearing, and when he boosts her up, her other foot slips in the stirrup. Robin catches her easily in his strong, solid arms, her front side flush with his as he holds her up against him.

She has her arms wrapped around his neck as she looks down into his handsome face, feeling the tension reveal itself for what she has known, but vehemently denied - it is pure, heated attraction. She licks her lips, tasting the sweetness of the apple, and Robin makes this low, rough sound in his throat that makes her look to his mouth, makes her tighten her arms around him.

Regina can feel herself drifting toward him, catches herself wondering what his beard might feel like against her smooth, soft skin, and she almost allows it, almost presses her mouth to his. Her horse huffs out a loud, impatient breath behind her, and the sound has her opening her eyes (when had they shut?), has her pulling back from Robin once more as she whispers, “We can’t.”

Robin swallows and relaxes his grip on her, letting her slide down so her feet are on the ground. He clears his throat and drops his arms, then makes the step for her again, and this time she successfully pulls herself up into the saddle.

Their ride back to the castle is quiet. Regina can’t find the nerve to bring up what almost just transpired, and Robin seems lost in thought, his brow scrunched as he posts (poorly) next to her. She watches him bounce awkwardly in the saddle for a few minutes, then can’t stand it anymore and asks, “Haven’t you had riding lessons?”

He turns to look at her as he replies, “Of course I have.”

“From your posture, I find that hard to believe.” She knows she’s being arrogant but by god, he’s really not a very good rider and she’s honestly surprised that a prince could look so uncomfortable on horseback.

“Is there a point to your criticism, or are you just determined to wound me further?” he mutters.

Regina’s brows shoot up at his display of attitude, and she fights her temper as she tells him seriously, “You shouldn’t be able to see your toes if your feet are correctly positioned while posting - your legs are shoved way too far forward, it’s why you can’t keep the rhythm.”

Robin grunts and throws a scowl at her in response, but when she sneaks a glance at him a few minutes later, his legs are where they’re supposed to be and he looks slightly more comfortable as they trot along the dark path.

When they reach the castle, they are successful in returning their horses and sneaking back up into the tower without being caught, and Regina pauses just outside the door after he picks the lock. Robin is standing close to her, but not inappropriately so, the hood of his cloak still up so half of his face is cast in shadow from the lone torch burning in the stairwell.

“I can’t express how much this meant to me, Robin, truly,” she says quietly, touching his arm. She runs her fingers down to his elbow and gives it a little squeeze before she lets go.

He nods and ducks his head in response, and she’s suddenly afraid that he’s not going to visit her anymore.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asks nervously.

He tips his head to the side and she can see his face a little better as he says, “I’m not sure, I have a busy evening planned and I don’t know if I’ll make it.”

Regina’s heart falls. Surely he can’t be _that_ upset by their little ‘almost’ kiss.

“I really enjoy the time we spend together,” she tries. Robin looks at her as if he doesn’t believe her for a second, so she gathers her courage and says, “But we both know what the future has in store for me, and it isn’t wise to entertain certain… ideas… regardless of whether we may want to or not.”

“Do you?” he asks quickly.

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to entertain certain ideas?” He sounds as nervous as she feels.

“I…” she hesitates, unsure if she should tell him the truth. She does want to - if she was a different person with the free will to choose, she could see herself falling for Robin. “That’s not relevant,” she counters.

A moment of tense silence ticks by, but then Robin surprises her and nods. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “My apologies if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

She waves him off, then asks again, “Will I see you tomorrow then?”

Robin furrows his brow as he looks away, then brings his blue eyes back to hers and nods. “I have to rearrange a few things, but I’ll be here. It might be a bit later than usual, if that’s alright?”

“I have no plans,” she smirks, and it pulls a wry grin from him as well.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, reaching for her hand and placing a kiss to the back of it. “Goodnight, Regina.”

She bids him goodnight and steps into her tower prison, listening to him lock the door before she makes her way to her little pile of pillows and blankets to settle in for the night. She lays awake for hours, staring at the fire in the hearth, watching the flame lick and flicker against the logs Robin has brought for her as she creates a similar flame in her palm. It’s painfully ironic that after all this time, after years of rebuffing suitor after suitor, she’s finally found a man she actually likes, but she no longer has a say in the matter.

Then she remembers that she’s Queen Cora’s daughter, and therefore, she _never_ had a say in the matter. Regina clings to that thought as she starts to drift off, feeling slightly less frustrated with her situation. At least this way she has made a friend in Robin, and that friendship will have to be all there is between them, whether she likes it or not.

 

 


	6. Chapter Four - The Chess Match

 

 

Chapter Four - The Chess Match

 

 

Robin continues to visit Regina in her tower cell, just as she’s asked, but there’s a bit of torture in it for him now. He has started to think of his short relationship with her in two halves - before their almost kiss, and after. It’s the ‘after’ that’s bloody well killing him.

She’s gorgeous, he knows, _god he knows_ , but there are loads of beautiful women in Misthaven, and in the neighboring kingdoms too. Other women may not be quite as beautiful as Regina, but still, he’s certain he could find someone that could pique his interest, were he to look. The problem isn’t with the physical reaction she pulls from him, the problem is that he actually _likes_ her. He likes her dry humor, her sharp tongue, that prissy attitude that is always so obsessed with propriety, and even her confidence - which on the surface could easily be mistaken as arrogance if her intentions were anything other than well-intentioned.

She corrects him, calls his bluffs, tries to teach him things he doesn’t know, doesn’t put up with his attitude when he gets irritable, and he absolutely loves it. Nobody likes to be corrected or called out on their flaws, and true, it’s not always a particularly enjoyable feeling for him, but no one has ever even tried to discover his potential before. Leopold is cruel, doesn’t have it in him to provide constructive criticism, the guards and castle staff are utterly useless, so the only person who has ever come close to having any kind of expectations of him is Granny. Even Marian was reluctant to ask much of him - she was sweet-natured, always too concerned about him and his emotions. She knew of his feelings of inadequacy at being “produced simply as insurance for the crown,” so she didn’t push him to be more. Instead, she constantly told him that he was wonderful just the way he was and encouraged him to never change.

He appreciates that about his dear Marian, she was sweet and meant well, but there’s something alluring in the way Regina expects the best of him, something that draws him up to that blasted tower, night after night, risking the wrath of his brother just to spend a few hours with her, if only to be beaten yet again at chess. He finds himself primping for her - making sure his beard is neatly trimmed, his clothing clean, that his hair is styled and his body freshly scrubbed with pine soap before he goes up to visit her. She consumes his thoughts, invades his dreams, and sparks lust in him that he hasn’t felt in _years_.

And they’re not even intimate.

At all.

Despite his best efforts.

Robin was certain he could at least get a few kisses from her sweet lips before she was married off and ruined by his awful brother. The brother who gets anything he wants, simply because he is “King”. Robin wishes like hell that Leopold didn’t want Regina. Wishes Leo would stumble upon some other unfortunate soul to make into his personal whore. Robin does not want that life for Regina. He’s only known her for two weeks but he has this gut feeling about her - knows deep down that she is too strong for Leopold to break, which only means her new life will be filled with more suffering than if she were easily cowed.

It was easier to ignore her fate before their ‘almost kiss’, before he felt this deep attraction for her racing through him every time he thinks of her. It is much more difficult now that all he can think about is how long and muscled her legs look in those trousers he gave her, how he’d like to run his fingers across the nape of her neck when she braids her thick raven hair and tucks it all up in the back, how he’d love to feel the softness of her lips against his as he presses kiss after kiss to them. Robin has quickly become infatuated with Regina, and it’s torture.

He wants to distance himself from her, wants to pull away for self-preservation, but despite his history of committing dark and selfish deeds, when she asks him to return, he cannot bring himself to tell her no. If his presence brings her an ounce of happiness, if it makes her even a tiny bit less depressed, he will give that to her, because his discomfort is nothing compared to what hers will soon be.

Tonight is no different - they’re sitting on the floor together in front of the fire, playing chess and talking quietly while Regina chases his poor pawns all across the board, mercilessly capturing one after another as he tries desperately to figure out how to beat her. She’s really good at this game, she’s won the last three matches to prove it, and his ego is starting to hurt. He’s not playing his best game and he knows it, but he’s not _trying_ to lose, he’s just helplessly distracted.

By her.

Because she’s so ridiculously pretty tonight that he can’t watch the chessboard, can’t strategize on how to counteract her attacks, because he can’t stop looking at her.

Her hair is mostly down, the front pulled back but the rest hanging long and loose behind her, her face made up with light colored eye shadow and dark liner, lips stained a pretty pink. She must use magic to do it, because he’s never seen a trace of cosmetics in the little room, and he wonders briefly why she bothers when she has no intentions of allowing him anything more than friendship. He tries to shake the fog from his head. _Women_.

When Regina beats him again five minutes later, Robin immediately challenges her to another match, knowing the hour is late but unable to quell his competitive nature.

“One more match,” he says, “One more so I can prove I’m not a complete dolt - you can’t possibly get lucky five times in a row.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, my dear,” Regina says coyly, as she starts to reset the board. She’s playing with the black ivory markers, he with the white. “Strategy is the key.”

“Is it now?” he teases, “I had no idea, I’ll try to keep that in mind when I defeat you this time.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “When _I_ defeat _you_ , perhaps I’ll inform you of what you’ve been doing wrong.” She gives him a smug little smile as she finishes setting up her pieces.

“I’ll tell you what, love,” he lets his eyes run over her face, so pretty in the firelight. “If you win this match, tomorrow night I’ll take you to the village tavern to play a _real_ game.” Her eyes light with surprise and excitement, and he briefly considers throwing the game to ensure that she can come with him tomorrow. It’s risky, much more risky than a late night ride to pick apples, but he’s pretty sure he can get away with it. Leopold is still at the summer castle - he doesn’t return home until the day after tomorrow, and the villagers are more loyal to Robin than to the King anyway. He knows every person at that tavern, and as long as they play it cool, it is unlikely that there will be any trouble.

“And what about if you win?” Regina prompts, “What shall you earn for your victory?”

He thinks for a moment. “Well, being that I’ve decided the terms for your victory, how about you decide for mine? And you’d better make it good, darling, your reward is quite an effort on my part.” He winks at her to let her know he’s mostly teasing, he doesn’t really care what he wins if he defeats her, other than bragging rights and a bandage for his self-esteem.

She bites her plump bottom lip, her dark eyes darting around the room as she thinks. It takes her a moment, but then she’s smiling mischievously at him, and all thoughts of throwing the game fly right out the window.

“If you win - which we both know you _won’t_ ,” she teases. “If you win, you can…” her cheeks flush as she looks up at him through her long lashes and says quickly, “You can kiss me.”

The air slips from his lungs so fast that he has to cough to cover his ridiculous reaction. _Christ_ , he wants to win. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything in a _very_ long time. He takes this rare opportunity to flirt with her and says, “Now, now, Princess, are you certain you want a man like me to be the first to kiss you? I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed by whomever gets to kiss you next.”

Across the readied chessboard, Regina laughs. “Oh I’m certain,” she smirks, lowers her voice to this sexy, low tone that makes his stomach drop and adds, “Certain you’ll lose. Besides, you’re far from my first.”

Robin’s jaw drops. Did the prim and proper Regina Zara Adela just confess to having snogged other men? He’s shocked. And aroused. His traitorous mind throws a thousand inappropriate questions before him - does she mean closed-mouth kisses or open-mouth? Has she kissed with tongue? Is she just talking about her lips, or has she been kissed elsewhere? Does she moan when she’s kissed deeply, or does she make those hot little sighs that some women do?

Dear god, he needs to win this fucking chess match.

She’s still smiling at him like a bloody vixen, one fine eyebrow raised as she prompts, “Shall we?”

He nods his agreement, suddenly nervous and excited all at once. “Ladies first.”

She starts out with a move that’s quite typical - pawn to e,3. He counters by moving his own pawn to h,6, and they pause for a moment while she thinks.

“That kiss I’m going to win,” he asks carefully, “I get to kiss your lips, yeah?”

Regina moves her pawn to c,3, making a quiet _Hmm_ in her throat as if she’s carefully considering his question. He can tell from the crinkle around her eyes that she’s teasing him when, after a long pause, she sighs dramatically and says, “Oh, I suppose.”

Robin’s heart stutters and he looks eagerly back to the chessboard. He moves his knight to c,6, then asks, “Is it just a peck, or do I get a _real_ kiss?”

She blushes prettily and gives him a look like he’s pushing his luck, but he doesn’t care. She’s bloody gorgeous, and smart, and adorable, and he can’t help himself. “What exactly do you mean by ‘a real kiss’?” she asks innocently, moving her queen to b,3.

Robin studies the board, smirking. She’s obviously going for his knight with that queen she just pulled out, and that’s perfect actually, because then he can take her queen with his rook. He moves his pawn to f,6, as if he doesn’t know what she’s up to, and clarifies, “I mean, is it a one-second kiss, or am I allowed, oh, say, a ten-second kiss?”

Regina looks up from the board, her eyebrows raised and blushing once again - _Christ_ , she’s cute - and she’s still giving him a sweet smile as she says, “Well, since it really doesn’t matter, because you’re _not_ going to win, let’s say you can have a ten-second kiss.”

Robin’s cock twitches in excitement, and he digs his fingers into his thighs to calm himself down. Ten seconds. Ten seconds of his mouth pressed against hers. _Fuck_. It sounds like heaven.

She moves her bishop to c,4, and he almost laughs. She must be just as distracted as he is, because she forgot to take his knight with her queen.

“Mouths open or closed?”

She sighs but there’s a laugh mixed in with it, and she eyes him warily across the chessboard and asks, “Do you plan _every_ kiss right down to the last detail? I would have thought you to be more spontaneous, Robin _the Hood_. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed.” She’s deflecting and they both know it.

“Oh I’m plenty spontaneous,” he argues, “I just don’t want you to be surprised, is all. I wouldn’t want you to faint when I give you what is surely a kiss you’ll forever think of as anything but disappointing.”

Regina huffs a little, rolling her eyes and muttering what sounds awfully like ‘ _arrogant ass’_ under her breath as she looks back to the board.

He can’t stop himself from laughing at her irritation.“Well?” he prods, he’s got to know her answer, his pulse is pounding in his ears and he wants it, _fuck_ , he wants to kiss her so much.

“Fine, fine,” she gives in, exasperated, “Open is acceptable.”

Robin grins and moves his pawn to g,5, readying himself to get his own bishop out so he can do some real damage. He’s so close to that kiss he can almost taste it.

She’s going to kill him for asking this - he’s really asking more to make her blush than anything - he’s pretty sure she’ll never let him do it. “With tongue?”

Regina’s dark eyes flash and she looks a bit affronted. “Of course not!” she snaps, but her tone actually isn’t all _that_ harsh, and much to his amusement, her cheeks turn the most pink he’s seen tonight. He wonders if she’s actually considering it but too proper to say so, wonders if he tried to slip her just a little tongue if she’d go for it anyway and blame it on the heat of the moment. He decides he’ll try it, just to see what happens.

Regina slides her bishop to f,7, then folds her hands primly in her lap and looks up at him.

“Checkmate.”

Robin furrows his brow, completely confused. They’ve only been playing for a few minutes, for… for _five turns_ each. There’s no way she’s beaten him in five moves. No bloody way in hell.

He stares at the board. Stares, and stares, and stares. _Fuck_.

“What time should I expect you tomorrow?”

Robin feels his face flush hot with embarrassment, his emotions at war between humiliation and complete desolation at having lost the chance to kiss her. _God-fucking-damnit._

“I, er,” he stutters, still in shock. He clears his throat, fighting the crushing wave of disappointment that washes over him. “I suppose I had better come at dark, it’ll be easiest to slip out undetected once the guard changes over to the night watch.”

He tells her to wear the outfit he brought her for their apple tree excursion, then leaves for the night. The hour is late, his ego is sorely bruised, and he has an enormous amount of work to get done between now and tomorrow to ensure their safe passage to and from the village. John and Will are going to kill him for all the favors he’s about to ask of them.

As he trudges down the cool stone steps, belatedly reminding himself to be careful and quiet, he tries to gain a bit of perspective. He may not have been able to kiss her tonight, but at least he gets to take her out again - one last excursion before Leopold gets back. And who knows? There’s a good chance he’ll win at cards tomorrow night, so perhaps all is not lost.

Either way, he definitely knows what he’ll be betting for.

 

 


	7. Chapter Five - The Tavern

 

 

Chapter Five - The Tavern

 

 

So it turns out, pretending to be a peasant is sort of fun.

Regina had been exceptionally nervous about going to the tavern, not just because of the increased risk of being caught, but because she hasn’t spent much time around the common folk, and she didn’t really know what to expect.

They’re loud, a little filthy, and many of them don’t smell very nice.

But they also laugh _a lot_. They dance too, but it’s nothing like she’s ever seen at court. And they’re welcoming, much more so than any nobility Regina has ever rubbed elbows with. She finds that she likes their company more than she ever could have expected, and subsequently, she’s having quite an enjoyable time.

It doesn’t hurt that Robin is pressed tightly into her side at the table they occupy, pointing out people he knows, telling her funny stories and sordid details about them. John is on her other side, and a few of Robin’s friends have joined them - Will, Alan, and a boy named Much, who looks entirely too young to be drinking his third mug of ale, but no one else has stopped him so she holds her tongue.

There was a moment of awkwardness when they first arrived, where Robin, trying to be polite, greeted everyone with a, “Hello gents, this is Reg -” then cut himself off mid-word, realizing a little too late that they shouldn’t use her name. A half of a second ticked by before John jumped up from his seat and finished for him, “Rrrroni! Nice to see you again! How’re things over in Sherwood?”

From then on it has been mostly smooth sailing, and Regina quickly decides that she likes John. For such a large man, he’s surprisingly polite, soft-spoken, and easy-going. He’s also undoubtedly loyal to Robin, because she knows that _he knows_ who she is, but he’s been carefully reinforcing her name as Roni to everyone and filling in gaps in her make-believe story about coming over from Sherwood for a visit. He’s an incredibly good friend, especially considering his punishment should the King find out about all of this, and it makes Regina’s heart happy that Robin has someone like this when his blood relatives are so terribly cruel.

Robin excuses himself to go _take care of some business_ , and Regina honestly feels quite comfortable sitting with the rest of the men he’s introduced her to. She supposes she should be anxious, there aren’t very many women in the tavern, but she really does trust John, and the rest of them don’t seem like the type to get her into trouble. Except for Will Scarlet. That man _emanates_ trouble with a capital T.

She confirms his affinity for mischief when Will returns from a visit to the barkeep with a round of drams for the entire table, including her. Regina is no stranger to alcohol, she’s had her fair share of wine, has sipped well-aged scotch, and yes, even had a pint of ale before. She’s twenty-six, not sixteen, and she’s lived a little, not to mention she spent years under the tutelage of Maleficent. Now _there’s_ a woman who can hold her drink.

Regina has not, however, had to partake in this particular type of liquor, if one could be so bold as to call it that. The liquid in the little glass looks green and murky, and when she holds it up to her nose and takes a sniff, the harsh, sharp smell of anise and fennel stings her sinuses so harshly that her eyes burn. When she glances up, Will is grinning at her like he’s positive she won’t drink it, and everyone else has already downed theirs, so without letting herself think too much about it she throws it back, tipping her chin up and swallowing quickly to save her tongue from the assault of it as much as possible.

She doesn’t cough - _jesus_ she wants to - but with a valiant effort she manages to hold it back, though she can’t stop her eyes from watering. That was absolutely disgusting. How on earth can these people drink such swill?

Just as she’s getting the taste out her mouth, Alan brings them another round, and she has no choice but to down the drink with everyone else. Then it’s John’s turn, and she grimaces. She knows herself well enough to know that she positively cannot drink this fast. She’s already quite warm from it, her lips feel just a tad numb, and she needs to slow _way_ down before she has a night like the one Maleficent _told_ her about, but which she cannot for the life of her remember.

When John sets the tiny glass down in front of her, she bites her lip with nervousness - she can’t possibly take another shot right now. But the big man gives her a little nudge as he sits back down next to her, and when she picks it up to drink with the others, she belatedly notices that it’s empty.

John gives her a little knowing smile, and he immediately becomes Regina’s favorite person in the tavern.

She pretends to take the shot with the others, and John claps her on the back in congratulations as if she’s just passed some sort of test. Will gives her an approving nod, and the next thing she knows he’s sliding onto the bench next to her, taking Robin’s vacant seat as he pulls a deck of playing cards from his breast pocket.

“A’right, a’right,” he says, his accent thick as he adds, “Now that the pleasantries are over, it’s right time we get down to business. Who’s in?”

The men all start tossing coins across the table at Will, and Regina looks to John for help.

“This here’s a bluffing game,” he quietly explains, “Will’s gonna split the deck out equally across us, and then we go ‘round, laying down cards in order. If you haven’t got it, or if you want to boost your odds of winning, you can lay additional cards, but if someone catches you cheating, you’ll have to take the center pile. First person to get ridda all their cards, wins, the loser gets bumped out of the game for the night. We keep on playing, eliminating folks ‘til there’s only two left, and whoever wins the last match, wins the purse.”

Regina grins at John - she actually knows this game. It’s called Cheat, and she is quite good at it. Robin hasn’t returned from wherever he skipped off to, so she pulls a few coins out and tosses them into the pot with the rest of them, confident in her skills of deception.

Apparently, the men think she’s the easiest or most obvious target at the table, because she’s good-naturedly harassed and picked on for her first three turns. She shuts them down after that though, she can bluff with the best of them (she grew up with Cora, it’s a survival skill), and they get tired of having to take the center pile when she beats them time and time again. Focus shifts to Much - the boy has absolutely no poker face, and they essentially pester him until he’s holding over half the deck, too buried under cards to prevent himself from losing the game. The boy sulks in his seat for awhile - this is clearly not the first time they’ve ousted him - and Regina feels sorry for him. He’s obviously not as old or as practiced as everyone else, so he clearly has a disadvantage and the men have absolutely no mercy. As a new round of the game continues without him, the poor boy looks so sullen that when he casually makes eye contact with Regina, she gives him a smile and a little wink, just as she calls Alan a cheat and forces him to pick up a sizeable amount of cards that put him at a serious disadvantage for the rest of the game, which he ultimately ends up losing.

That gets a small smile out of Much, and he seems to perk up after that. The game continues for several more rounds, and it winds up being Regina versus Will as the top two players, vying for the ultimate title of champion of the game. Will is sitting across the table from her now, quite the knave in his own right. She’s caught him literally shoving cards up his sleeve, laying down five cards at a time (there are only four possible for a turn), and all manner of other tricks that he thinks he can get past her. Regina is determined to beat him, and as she faces off with him, she has to admit that the competition is steep.

John brings them all another round of drams - hers is thankfully only half full of the vile liquid, and she tosses it back at the same time as Will, then throws down four cards and says, “Four nines.”

Will studies her face carefully, then decides not to call her bluff (he should have, she just put down three twos and an ace), and he takes his turn. “Two tens.”

Regina thinks back to what’s already in the pile on the table. She has one ten in her hand, and she’s been counting cards but she can’t remember if there was a ten played earlier. She studies his face, particularly his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth. He gives away nothing, but then she catches just the slightest fidget of his left hand - one fingernail digging lightly into the tabletop - and she calls him the cheat that he is.

She’s right, and Will grabs up the pile of cards in the center, grinning like a fool as he organizes his cards.

The game goes on for quite awhile, she and Will battling for the win, a small crowd gathered around, betting and taking sides. She has quite a little following - Much is on her side, as well as John, all of the tavern server girls, and most of the male patrons under forty. The rest are on Will’s side - Alan, several elderly men who have obviously spent years in the tavern, and, she makes an annoyed face, Robin.

From the way she conquered him in that chess match last night, you’d think he’d know better by now.

The cards whittle down, less and less in both competitors hands, until finally, Regina lays her last three cards. “Three Queens.”

Will stares at her, long and hard, his fingers flicking teasingly across the top of his cards. Regina stares back, unflinching, buzzing from the alcohol in her system and the adrenaline of the game. Will looks down at his cards, then back at the large stack in the center of the table.

“Ya know wha’ I think?” he asks slowly, squinting his brown eyes just slightly as he looks back up at her. “I think, there’re two queens already in tha’ pile there.”

“Is that right?” she goads, “Then by all means, call me a cheat.”

Will hesitates, flicking his cards again, flicking… flicking… as he studies her for another moment. “A’right gorgeous,” he smirks, “You’re a naughty, filthy little cheat, aren’t you love?”

Regina grins, flips over her cards and reveals all three Queens.

“Bloody fucking hell!” Will gripes, tossing his cards at the table. “I _know_ there were two Queens in that pile, _I know_ there were!”

Regina leans back from the table, throwing back the shot that’s been sitting in front of her for the past ten minutes. “The game is called Cheat, for a reason, Mr. Scarlet,” she says quietly, seriously.

Will locks eyes with her, five seconds of tense silence pass, then suddenly, he laughs.

It’s a boisterous, jovial sound that catches on fast, the rest of those circled around the table joining in until most of the tavern is cracking up, and Will comes around and slides back onto the bench next to Regina, grinning. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, presses a wet kiss to her cheek, and says, “And here I thought I was the only bandit in the bunch.” He pulls out the little purse of winnings and hands it to her, announcing her the victor as, “Roni the Trickster.”

Regina grins victoriously and glances up, looking for Robin. Her cheeks are flushed from the combination of Will’s friendly familiarity with her and the effects of the alcohol, but she’s starting to get a little annoyed at the prince’s absence. He’s been gone a long time - the entirety of the card game - and it bothers her that he’s brought her here then seemingly pawned her off on his friends. The crowd that was watching the card game has mostly broken up, everyone going back to their own business now that the excitement is over, and she finally spots Robin on the other side of the tavern. He’s casually leaning against the high top bar, that smooth smile playing on his lips as he reaches out and wraps his arm around the waist of one of the server girls. Regina watches intently as he laughs, tugging the woman closer still, before pressing a kiss to her temple then saying something directly in her ear.

A wave of white-hot jealousy burns through Regina. She grits her teeth, fire threatens to ignite in her palms, and she has to ball her hands into fists where they rest in her lap as the emotion overwhelms her.

Robin brushes the woman’s long brown hair back behind her ear, reminding Regina of the night in the apple orchard where he did the same to her, and she’s so hurt by the casualness of his actions that her eyes water. Rationally, she knows she’s not allowed to be upset about this, that she’s betrothed to a King who will kill them all just for her being here, but she can’t stop the feeling from slicing through her chest once again as Robin laughs and talks with the beautiful woman he’s holding so effortlessly in the circle of his arms.

Another shot appears in front of her, courtesy of Will, and she immediately drinks it, trying to dull the throbbing in her chest. She has an intense feeling of despair as she watches Robin with the woman, as she observes him give her the attention that Regina has yearned for, but was really never allowed to have to begin with. And when yet _another_ shot appears in front of her, she figures why the hell not? She has nothing to lose.

It’s all a blur from there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

John sidles up next to Robin at the bar, handing him a shot of absinthe as he greets Ruby. Robin quickly takes the shot, even though he’s still got a mostly full pint, before he goes back to teasing the woman in front of him.

“Honestly, Red,” he smirks, leaning into her, “If Granny catches you skiving off chores to run all over town with Mulan, she’s going to tan your hide.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughs, pushing on his chest a little, “We’ve well established you’re not the boss of me, and you’d better keep your mouth shut, or I’ll send Mulan up to that castle of yours to kick your ass.”

Robin holds up his hands in surrender - he’s heard tales of this Mulan, a fierce warrior with a special sword that is uncommon in this land. He’d like to see the sword actually, just not if he’s at the sharp end of it.

“Alright, then,” he gives up, discreetly handing her the large pouch of coin he’s brought for her. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” He winks as she pockets the money.

Ruby comfortingly squeezes his arm. “So, are you going to tell me about Roni?” she asks, tilting her head, her green eyes blatantly showing her curiosity.

“She’s uh, she’s a friend,” he says carefully. He knew this was going to be awkward, knew that he’d have to give Ruby some sort of explanation. It’s been five years since Marian was murdered, and he’s never brought another woman to the tavern with him. He’s never brought another woman _anywhere_ with him.

“She’s very pretty,” Ruby prods, “I heard she’s from Sherwood. Now, tell me, cousin, how did you manage to meet such a beautiful girl from there, when you’ve been banned from King Richard’s forest for the last five years?” She’s giving him a knowing look, one that clearly tells him she’s onto him.

Robin drops his head. He’s never been able to hide anything from Ruby. She’s actually Marian’s cousin, but he spent most of his youth running amuck with her and Marian, getting scolded by Granny and making a fool of himself as he tried time and time again to woo Marian. Ruby is so like her late cousin - headstrong and clever, but with a penchant for living on the edge that Marian was not so fond of. He’s always liked Ruby, and before he met Marian he’d even tried once or twice to get her to court him. It was a fool’s errand - Robin fell so hard for Marian he forgot any other woman existed, and as it turns out, Ruby is only interested in women anyway.

“Be careful, Robin,” she says seriously, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I hate to think what Leopold might do if he finds out you’re interested in another commoner.”

Robin swallows thickly. “She’s uh, she’s not really common,” he admits, fighting a wave of guilt. He feels like he’s betraying Marian by being interested in another royal. Like he’s sullying her memory.

“Shit,” Ruby says, dropping her voice for only him to hear. “So it’s true then? Fuck, Robin, that’s Regina, isn’t it?”

He feels his face heat and his eyes widen as he stares at her in disbelief. “How?” he asks quickly, “How the bloody hell did you know that?”

Ruby rolls her eyes and swats him across the back of the head. “Oh please,” she huffs, “We’ve all heard about the new queen-to-be. You can dress her down however you’d like, but that woman _looks_ royal. Look at the way she sits, the way she drinks; for god’s sake, listen to how she talks, Robin. It’s obvious she doesn’t fit in here.”

Robin cringes and drops his head. Ruby is correct, Regina’s mannerisms are much too proper, her looks much too regal to be convincing as a commoner. He was wrong to bring her here.

“You must really like her,” Ruby muses, “To have risked your neck, and all of ours, to bring her here.”

Robin takes a huge swig from his mug of ale, draining half of it in two gulps. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, doesn’t know why on earth he ever thought that he should befriend the princess.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead, “I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re right, I should never have done this. I’ll take her back immediately.”

Ruby laughs, swats the back of his head again and says, “Now what good would that do? The damage is done, Robin, so you might as well enjoy it tonight.” She pauses, catches his eyes as she softens her tone and says, “And we both know what’s wrong with you. There’s only been one other _completely incredible girl_ you did _completely idiotic things_ like this for, and she’s been gone long enough now that I don’t think anybody can judge you for chasing after another one - especially one who looks like _that and_ can beat Will Scarlet in a game of Cheat.”

They pause, both laughing softly, each taking a swig from Robin’s pint before she finishes, “But Robin, this is… this is a bad idea. You can’t win this - you’re going to get hurt and I don’t want to see you go through… what we all went through, again. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you know that you’ve got to stop this before you get any deeper, before this _thing_ you started turns into something more.”

She’s wise, Ruby, and she’s correct. But it doesn’t stop the scowl from taking over his face, doesn’t stop him from hating himself and his wretched brother for the millionth time. John bumps his shoulder and tries for his attention, so Robin opts for humor and tells Ruby, “Fine then. I’ll end it with Regina, and you’ll end it with Mulan. Problem solved.”

Ruby rolls her eyes and says, “Fat chance,” drinks the rest of his beer then finally gets back to work, pouring several pints, refilling his, then carrying the tray of ale over to a table of old men that have been impatiently waiting.

Robin turns to John, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to the table where his mates are busy entertaining “Roni” with what he can only imagine are outrageous tales of their stupidity.

“How’s it going over there?” He asks John, who is looking a bit flushed.

“Well, it’s alright for us, but ya shoulda thought better about bringing her tonight when you’ve got so much work to do. I think she’s getting a bit tired of our company - she’s hiding it well, but she’s been watching for you for the past hour.”

Robin curses, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He hadn’t wanted to bring Regina tonight - it’s one of his special nights, one of the ones where he pilfers as much coin as he can from his brother, then gives it to the business owners in the village so they can pay their taxes. It’s a little thing he does to fuck with Leopold - every time his brother raises the taxes, the villagers somehow come up with the money to pay it, and Leo never seems to get any richer. It’s bloody hilarious.

Unfortunately, though, distributing the funds has taken up most of his time this evening, and he has barely spent any time with Regina at all. He watches as Will says something that makes everyone laugh, and he catches Regina looking over at him, then quickly away.

Robin starts for the table, but John grabs his arm before he goes. “She uh, she’s had a few drinks…”

Robin tries to shrug him off. “So?”

John winces, and a feeling of dread runs through Robin.

“You didn’t,” Robin says with a grimace, “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I only gave her the one,” John defends, “Will though, he’s uh, he’s been a bit more generous.”

“Damnit, John,” Robin curses, legitimately annoyed. “I asked you to keep an eye on her.”

“Sorry, mate,” John drops his head, “But you know how Will is when he gets going, and her kicking his arse at Cheat certainly didn’t help things.”

Robin grumbles another curse, then heads quickly back over to the table, taking John’s old seat on the bench next to Regina. There’s a shot of absinthe in front of her in one of those little pewter cups, and he grabs it, drinks it quickly, then leans behind Regina and chucks the cup at Will’s head.

It hits Will in the temple, startling him, and when he turns to look at him, Robin fixes him with a glare that’s got him cringing and nodding his apology. Will bloody well knows what he was doing to earn the look, and he doesn’t attempt to serve Regina any more shots after that.

Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late.

“Oh, so nice of you to join me,” she says slowly. Regina speaks carefully, enunciating each syllable in what he recognizes immediately as an attempt not to slur.

“My apologies, milady,” he says quietly, scooting a bit closer and turning toward her so their knees bump under the table. He takes her hand in both of his, brings it to his lips for a soft kiss and says, “I did not intend for my business to take so long, are you quite alright?”

She’s not, he _knows_ she’s not. Regina’s face is more expressive than he’s ever seen her, her annoyance, discomfort, and a bit of something else (anger?) clearly showcased when she typically keeps her emotions hidden. He’s going to kill Will - she’s obviously drunk.

“ _I_ am positively splendid,” she purses her lips, drawing his attention to them as she asks, “Are you done with your _business_ now?”

Robin nods and can’t help himself, her hand is so soft in his, he brings it to his lips again for another kiss. “That’s right - for the rest of tonight, I’m all yours,” he smiles, scooching closer so their thighs are pressed against each other.

There is an edge to her voice he has never heard as she answers him with a wry smile, “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“Come again?”

“I highly doubt I’ll have you for the rest of tonight,” she clarifies, her tone even, voice forcefully steady. “I’m not some naive teenager, Robin, I’m well aware that men have needs.”

Robin opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it.

“And you won’t be using _me_ to fulfill them.” Regina pulls her hand from his, huffs out a laugh and takes his mug of ale from the table. She takes a long swig, then smirks at him. “All for the better, anyway. You couldn’t handle it.”

Is she… is she flirting with him? Is she… _angry flirting_ with him? Robin has no idea just what the bloody hell is happening, and he can’t decide if he’s turned on or upset by her words. What’s gotten into her?

“Couldn’t handle it?” he teases, “Tell me darling, how would you know what I can handle, and what I can’t?”

She gives him a bright smile. “I suspect you don’t have the stamina for it, no one else has,” she smirks. “Or perhaps I should ask that pretty server girl you’re so fond of, I’m sure she’d be willing to fill me in.”

Regina turns back to his friends and rejoins the conversation, while Robin’s ears heat, and his heartbeat turns erratic as realization washes over him.

She’s jealous.

The alcohol might be amplifying the effects of it, but there’s no doubt about it. Regina is jealous of his interaction with Ruby.

Which means… which means she wants that sort of interaction with him. Doesn’t it?

Regina doesn’t know that he and Ruby are strictly platonic. She has no idea that his hugging, kissing, and teasing of the other woman was all in the name of friendship, not desire. He feels like he could use this to his advantage, like he _should_ use this to his advantage, but he can’t focus - he’s too excited about the idea that she might like him in the same way he likes her. He wonders if he touches her right now, if she’ll pull away, or lean into it? He wishes he could find out, but she’s had too much to drink and if he touches her now, he’ll be a lecherous git just like his brother. So even though his heart and his body are screaming for it, for just _one_ touch, by some miracle, Robin resists.

 

 


	8. Chapter Six - The Self Control

 

 

Chapter Six - The Self Control

 

 

Oh god, this was a terrible idea. Of all the stupid, ludicrous things he’s done in his life, this takes the cake.

Robin is trying his hardest to get Regina back to the castle tower before daybreak, but it’s turning out to be quite a bigger effort than he had anticipated. She’s inebriated, but not in that way that she’s passed out or sleepy from it, _oh no_ , she’s drunk in a way that has her laughing loudly and chatting excitedly to him about every little thought that crosses her brilliant mind. She’s adorable - pink-cheeked and smiling at him constantly, the pupils of her dark brown eyes blown wide with her intoxication - and in any other circumstance he’d be thoroughly amused by this completely uninhibited version of her, but tonight she’s trying his patience and making it insanely difficult for him to sneak her back up to the tower.

He’s going to kill Will for this.

They had had to ride back together on his horse, because each time he boosted her into the saddle of her own mount, she started to slide off the other side, giggling hysterically, before he could get her properly situated. So he’d wound up putting her in front of him on his own steed, trapping her with his arms as he held the reins tightly and cantered them back toward the castle.

That would have been fine. It would have been completely, utterly, absolutely fine to ride together. Except that by the time they got half-way back home, the constant rubbing of her arse against his groin, combined with the rocking movement of the horse and several pints of ale working through his veins, has him hard in his pants. He feels bad about it, swears he’s not doing it on purpose - but it doesn’t seem to matter how guilty he feels, he’s sporting a massive erection that refuses to quit.

In hindsight, he probably should have quit drinking when he realized how much Will had served her, but Robin isn’t used to being responsible for someone else anymore. It’s been five years since he’s held that honor, and even then - when he was arguably at his best - he did a piss poor job of it.

By some miracle, he gets his horse put up and they head into the castle, creeping down the corridors as quietly as possible, the muffled rasp of the leather of their boots against the stone the only sound. Well, it’s the only sound aside from Regina’s giggling. He has to stop twice and press her against the wall, has to put his hand over her mouth as he hisses at her to be quiet, but she can’t seem to keep herself from laughing and teasing him as they inch closer and closer to the tower.

They’re about halfway back to the tower, and up until this point Robin has been trying to pull her along behind him, but he changes his mind and moves so that he’s pushing her along in front of him. He doesn’t want to do it, he’d much rather take point, but about a minute ago Regina had started complaining about being too hot and tried to take off her cloak, which she absolutely cannot do - the risk is much, _much_ too high.

It’s dark in the castle, still in the wee hours of the morning so most of the household staff are in bed, but there’s always the chance that someone is up, and he really does not want to deal with anyone should they be seen. His brother is cruel, and the staff are loyal to him out of fear, so if someone catches them, there will certainly be hell to pay. They make it to the stairwell that winds up to the tower, and he presses his hands against the small of Regina’s back, urging her up. The stairs prove to be too much for her though, and the third time she stumbles, he gives up and just picks her up. She’s not that heavy, she has pleasantly rounded curves and a good bit of muscle, but she’s easy enough to carry, and finally, _finally_ , they sneak back into the tower room, miraculously undetected. Robin decides he had better go in with her for a few minutes, just to be sure she drinks some water and eats something - she’s going to have a whopping hangover in the morning regardless.

Robin swings the big wooden door closed, locks it from the inside, and when he turns around - _oh bloody hell_ \- she’s stripped off her cloak, leather doublet and boots, and she’s working on the laces on her trousers. Robin is frozen for a moment, still kneeling by the door as she starts to shimmy out of the pants, and he - _ohhh fuck_ \- uses every ounce of self control he has to avert his eyes.

He will not look at the princess. He swears that he won’t. It’s a mantra, and he repeats it in his head - _don’t look- don’t look-don’t look-don’t look-don’t look_.

Regina calls his name quietly, and his concentration breaks. He looks.

And _oh christ_ , he should not have.

This must be some form of karma, some sort of amends that he must make for the sins of his past, because seeing her like this while strictly forbidden from touching her, is _unbearable_.

Robin swallows thickly as his eyes drift over her. She’s dressed in some sort of sleeveless knee-length slip - it’s either white, or off-white, he can’t tell in the firelight - her toned legs are smooth and bare, her hair falling down in tight, unruly waves from the braids she’s taken out. She’s so, so beautiful that it hurts deep down in his chest to look at her, makes his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth as he stares at her. She’s holding her gown in front of her with this amused little smirk, boldly giving him a moment to look her over before she asks, “Will you help me with this?”

“I uh, I dunno,” he stutters, “I’ve never put one of those _on_ a lady, and uh, you know, I’m not quite certain how it all works, so er, I had probably better not.”

He turns away from her, feeling the hot flush in his face and ears, his mouth dry and his pants embarrassingly tight. _Christ,_ she’s beautiful. He can’t get anywhere near her, he can’t trust himself - he likes Regina _a lot_ , and if he helps her with that gown, _good god_ , he’s worried he’ll take advantage of her. He doesn’t want that for them, she’s already headed toward an ugly fate, the last thing he wants is to be another black mark along the way.

“Am I so vile that you must look away, Your Highness?” she asks quietly, and it has him snapping his head back to her so fast that his neck cracks.

“Of course not!” he protests. “You’re the opposite of vile, my god, Regina, you’re beautiful, you’re, you’re stunning, I can’t _stop_ looking at you.” Robin pauses and rubs his palms against his eyes, trying valiantly but unable to stop the babbling. “You’ve no idea how much I’d like to look at you, _christ_ , how much I’d like to look at _all_ of you. You’re the fairest woman I have ever seen. My, my hands itch to touch you, I _dream_ of touching you, you’re so, and I, it’s just, _fuck_.”

Robin clamps his stupid mouth shut hard enough to make his teeth clack, while she stares at him with an amused smile playing across her feminine features.

“I was only teasing you, Robin,” she smirks, walking toward him, more steady than he expected. “You think I don’t know that I’m beautiful?”

And oh, _bloody fucking hell_ , her confidence is so sexy it just makes him hotter for her. Hotter and harder. _God save him_.

“You think I don’t know what every curve of my body looks like? Feels like? You’re not the first man to compliment me, and I’m certain you won’t be the last.” Regina is close to him now, barely a step away, still holding that godforsaken dress out for him to take.

Robin grits his teeth and tries to steel his resolve. He’s got to turn the situation around, got to get her to stop crowding him, teasing him, pushing him toward something that he wants so badly but absolutely cannot have. He’s trying to be a gentleman, trying to honor her decision, _their_ decision, on this from when they were sober - _god_ he’s trying - but she’s making it outrageously difficult for him.

Grudgingly, he takes the soft, satin dress and helps her slide it down over her head, gathering her long black hair up in one hand so it doesn’t pull as she shifts the dress into place. It’s the first time he’s touched more than just a few loose strands of her hair, and he loves the way it feels in his fingers as he threads them through it, loves the weight in his hands as he lifts it over her shoulder.

He drops his hands to the laces at the back of her gown, starting from the bottom, just above her arse and pulling the laces tight as he works his way up. “Tell me if it’s too snug,” he says softly, the quiet crackle of the fire in the hearth the only other sound in the room. Regina makes a soft, _Mmhmm_ in response that has him pulling a bit too hard, her body jerking back toward him with the force so that he has to place both hands on her waist as she takes a quick step to stay balanced.

He murmurs an apology, resisting the urge to pull her closer, to wrap his arms around her from behind and press a kiss to her temple, or _god_ , maybe her neck. She’s sobering up, he can tell because she’s not laughing anymore, she’s gone serious on him and there is a furrow in her brow as she stares into the fire before them.

Robin goes back to lacing up her dress, and she starts talking quietly, softly, almost as if she’s not even speaking to him, but he knows she is, knows that she is well aware of him as he pulls the laces carefully together.

“I never thought it would be like this,” she starts, “I never thought that this is what my future would be.” Regina pauses, and Robin continues to work behind her without interrupting. “Oh, perhaps at one time I did, when I was a girl, but once my magic made itself known, I thought I might find the freedom I so desired.” She stops, laughs in a way that Robin can only describe as self-deprecating and adds, “Who knew that it would only serve to shackle me further?”

“How so?” He keeps his voice soft and low.

“It was a bargaining chip for my mother, for what king wouldn’t want a woman who can produce heirs with magic in their blood? The amount of power that could be gained by a king with magic at his command is immense.”

“I believe in a balance of all things,” Robin states, unthreading three laces that he messed up. “What could balance such an advantage, in the case of magic?”

Regina sighs, straightens her back slightly and tells him, “All magic comes with a cost, my dear, and there is no telling how great that cost may be if it is used in the way your brother intends. It is children he wants - powerful, magical children to secure and protect his precious Snow White. He will force me to pass on my gift as many times as possible, then he will use every ounce of magic within my children and myself to ensure his daughter becomes the most powerful ruler in the realm.” Regina gives him a dark look. “Similar to when one suppresses their magic, I have heard, but have not seen for myself, that when a person uses _too much_ of their gift, irreversible madness overcomes them.” She laughs softly, bitterly. “One can only hope.”

Robin finishes the last lace on her dress and turns her around, no longer unable to touch her as she educates him. The fire casts an orange glow that flickers, creates dancing shadows across the room, and it lights Regina’s face in a way that makes Robin’s heart clench. She looks innocent, beautiful, perfect. It breaks his heart that Leopold will have her in a matter of days; he shudders to think what horrors he will see in her eyes once she is wed.

Robin strokes her cheek softly and says, “I could never wish madness upon you.”

“No?” she sounds offended. “You’d prefer me to be lucid while your brother makes a broodmare of me?”

“Certainly not, I…” He doesn’t know what to say to that. _Fuck_.

Regina gives him a sad smile, “That’s alright, I too cannot decide which is worse - to know what is happening to me and still have my mind, or to have no idea what is happening due to insanity. If it was your decision, what would you choose?”

He clears his throat, looking down into her lovely face with a terrible feeling of dread in his stomach. “What would I choose for you, or for myself?”

“Hmm,” she thinks for a second as she brings one hand up to rest on his chest, right over his beating heart. “What would you choose for me?”

“Honestly?”

Regina nods.

“If I had any say, any power at all, any way of ensuring it - my brother would never lay his unworthy hands on you to begin with.” It comes out low, but much more forceful, much more jealous-sounding than he intended.

The edges of Regina’s mouth turn up, but it’s not quite a smile. “That is not an option,” she corrects. “Sanity, or insanity?”

Robin hates this conversation, he wishes it wasn’t necessary, that she was his to hold and to protect. He knows he could do a better job of it this time, knows that he would not fail Regina the way he failed Marian.

“Sanity,” he whispers. “Until I can find a way to free you of him.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” she scolds, her words harsh but her hands gentle as she smooths them up his chest.

He agrees, but there is no conviction in it. “No, I shouldn’t.”

Regina slides her small, smooth hands up his shoulders and around to pull his head down to her, then presses a soft, slow kiss to his cheek.

“Please,” she whispers near his ear, “Don’t say it again, I can’t bear to hear it.”

Robin breaks, all of his willpower vanishing with the broken tone of her voice, and he wraps his arms tightly around her waist as he nods, murmurs, “I’m sorry, darling, I’m so sorry,” against her temple.

Regina turns her face into his neck, and he can feel her warm breath against his skin as she tries to collect herself. They should never have had this conversation, it is too delicate when sober, let alone when they’ve both been drinking and their emotions are less controlled. He starts to pull away, shifting his hands from her back down to her hips when he feels the press of her lips against the corner of his jaw, and he freezes.

Oh god.

Sweet, sweet, Christ.

She’s pressing kisses to his neck, shifting around to his throat, then up to nip his chin as her hands frame his face. He’s immediately hard again, _fuck_ , he had almost had himself under control, but now she’s pressing the length of her body against him and stroking one hand down over his stomach as she _\- fucking hell_ \- sucks at his pulse point. He moans softly, pathetically, his fingers tightening on her as she works up and down his throat, all the way to his collarbone then back up, scraping her teeth against him as she licks, and sucks, and nips at his skin.

God help him. She feels so good, so incredibly good that he just forgets to think, forgets why they can’t do this, forgets that they’re locked in a tower cell and that his brother will kill them both if he finds out. All he knows for a moment is the press of her lips to his skin, the heat of her body against his, the urging of her hands against his back as she pulls him closer. He wants to kiss her too, wants to press his lips to hers and feel the hot, wet slide of her tongue against his. He brings one hand to her chin, tips her face up as he leans in, and all he can think about is how sad her eyes look as he closes the distance and –

The sound of metal upon metal interrupts his movement, and they jump back from each other, both turning to stare at the source of the noise.

Fuck - _oh fuck!_ \- someone is unlocking the heavy door with what is definitely a key - the motion is too smooth for a pick - and the only person who has a key is, _oh fuck_.

“Do not move!” Regina hisses, flicking her wrists and raising them with a flourish, “Not a muscle, not at all or it won’t work!”

She doesn’t give him time to respond - the second the key unlocks the door he feels a cool, tingling sensation wash over him from head to toe, a swirl of glittery purple smoke envelops him, and when the smoke clears, he’s standing in the royal stable.

Holy fuck.

Did she just… Did she just _teleport_ him from the tower? Robin can’t help but grin.

She’s bloody fucking brilliant.

 

 


	9. Chapter Seven - The Helping Hand

 

 

Chapter Seven - The Helping Hand

 

 

Regina supposes she should be grateful that Leopold likes the way she looks, but she can’t quite find it in her. He stares at her constantly with this awful, lustful look on his wrinkled face, unless Snow is in the room, in which case his attention is completely directed at the brat. It’s ironic that before the tower incident, Regina never thought she’d look forward to Snow White’s presence, but for now, if it keeps Leopold’s attention off of her, Regina welcomes it.

Two days ago, Leopold released Regina from her tower prison. He had just returned from his trip to the summer castle, pleased as punch to find her miserable and alone in her punishment. He didn’t bother to explain his reasoning to her, other than he “missed looking at her,” and she didn’t ask for further clarification. She almost wishes she was still locked up in the tower though, in her little bubble of safety with Robin to visit her at night. She misses him, misses their talks and their banter, she misses unwrapping the supplies he brought for her and she misses beating him at chess. And then there’s that other thing.

It’s hazy, clouded by the alcohol, faded like an old memory, but before she teleported him to safety, she’s fairly certain she attacked Robin’s neck with her lips. And her tongue. And her teeth. She feels like an idiot about it, especially after she had told him outright that they couldn’t do that, they couldn’t explore any sort of attraction to one another because it will only end in heartbreak. Regina stands by that decision, knows that it is correct, and that’s what makes it even worse. In the few short weeks she’s gotten to know him, she’s grown to really like Robin - she’s gotten attached to him, and now that’s going to make things even worse for her, for _them_. Once she is married to Leopold they can’t possibly have any sort of relationship; it’ll get him killed, or her, and she doesn’t want that for either of them. She hates herself for her behavior, for giving in to a moment of weakness, for needing that sort of intimate human contact that she should never have asked of him. It’s so embarrassing, so improper, and above all, it reveals how desperate she really is.

The truth is, she was jealous. She tried not to be, tried to tamp it down and drown it with the alcohol that Will kept shoving at her, but try as she might, Regina could not get the image of Robin with that server girl out of her head. Even when she ignores the fact that he’s a prince, he’s still an extremely handsome, kind, thoughtful man. A man she wishes she could talk, and laugh, and spend her nights with. She had wanted to touch him, to taste him; wanted to feel the rough scrape of his stubble against her lips and tongue, wanted to hear his breath catch in desire for her. So she did.

God, she’s selfish.

She wonders who that other woman was, wonders if she’s good enough for Robin. He certainly seemed comfortable with her, and Regina wishes she had that too - that instead of this heightened anticipation she feels when she is near him, that she felt the comfort and ease of being with a close friend. Regina has never been very good at making friends - she didn’t learn how to tell the real friends from the fake until late in life, and she’s damaged by it, has a hard time trusting anyone as a consequence of the sins of those from her past.

She trusts Robin though, and she probably shouldn’t. He’s done nothing but complicate her life, and the longer she harbors these feelings of lust and longing for him, the worse it’s going to be. In a week’s time she’s going to be Queen, and she has to get over it, over _him_ , because god knows when she is given her new title, she’s going to need every ounce of concentration and strength to survive it.

It’s thunderstorming this evening, the rain is coming down in sheets, and it’s not too terrible of a storm, but it’s bad enough that it has the castle staff ducking indoors as soon as their chores are complete. Regina finds herself alone in the royal stable, spending a little time with the horse Robin stole for her on both of their outings, a handsome little gelding with a white blaze and stockings that break up the chestnut of the rest of his hide. He’s not a particularly nice horse, Regina quickly learned of his tendency to bite when she’s not looking, so she’s trying to woo the animal with peppermints she found stashed in one of the treat bags. Who knows, someday she may need a horse to escape on, and she doubts anyone else would pick this ill-natured one first.

The summer rain smells incredible, and it takes her back to when she was young, when she had first started taking riding lessons, all fresh-faced and excited to see what surprises the future would bring. It’s funny how much a person can change in just a few years. Regina _hates_ surprises now.

Which is why she’s agonizing over her impending wedding night, over what kind of terrible things are in store for her. She’s not totally inexperienced and she’s not an idiot - she knows how it all works and what she’s going to have to do - but she hasn’t actually _done_ it, and there’s an element of fear that accompanies the unknown. She expects it to hurt, expects it to be awful, it’s just that she doesn’t know _how_ awful it’s going to be. It’s that concept, that it might be something she can’t handle that has her in tears with anxiety as she brushes out the velvety coat of the little gelding. Certainly Leopold will show her no mercy, no understanding - he’s been leering at her like he’s barely holding himself back as it is, and gauging from the sympathetic looks the women of the castle staff keep giving her, she knows he won’t go easy with her.

If she just knew what to do to prepare herself, she’d be more than willing to do it. Why is it that no one teaches a woman what to expect for a thing that will certainly be demanded of her by her husband?

There is a ruckus in the stable and the sound of heavy hoofbeats as someone on horseback comes stomping inside. She hears the rider dismount, hears him cursing the rain and the heavy shake of the horse as it throws water from its’ coat. Regina swipes quickly at the tears on her cheeks, trying to pull herself together before she’s discovered, annoyed that she can’t seem to find a moment to herself now that she’s free of the tower.

The rider comes into view, leading his horse into the empty stall across from the one she’s in, and her heart leaps - it’s Robin. He doesn’t see her, just continues on his way and takes the next few minutes to remove the saddle and bridle from his mount. She watches quietly from across the aisle, smiling in spite of herself as he coos and pampers the animal like it’s a small child.

Robin gives the horse an ear scratch and a few firm pats on the rump, then turns to exit the stall, pulling up short when he sees her. His face flushes pink, and she smirks at how cute he is when he’s embarrassed.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you didn’t hear all of that?” he asks sheepishly, smiling and ducking his head.

“Oh, I didn’t hear anything aside from what a _pretty, perfect, little pony_ is in that stall,” she grins.

Robin curses quietly and gives her a guilty smile. “Well, to be fair, I was just stating the facts.”

Regina tilts her head in amusement as he slips out of the stall, sliding the gate closed behind him. He crosses the aisle to her, but doesn’t enter the stall she’s in, instead he leans in the doorway while he lets out a low whistle and says, “You must have some sort of gift to be able to share Rocinante’s stall with him and not have him tear you to pieces.”

She smiles proudly and agrees, then grabs up the brushes she’d been grooming her horse with, taking them with her as she treats the horse to the last peppermint and makes her way to the supply room with Robin, where she waits for him while he puts up the equipment.

He must notice the puffiness of her eyes, but thankfully he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he asks teasingly, “So, how does it feel to be a free woman again?”

She scrunches her nose. “Free? Who says I’m free?”

Robin’s face falls and a flush creeps up his neck as he rubs his hand across his forehead. “You’re right. My apologies, that was… a stupid thing to say.” There is an awkward pause, then he amends, “How are you fairing?”

She means to say _fine_ or _alright_ or really, anything other than what she actually says. But she finds it hard to lie to him, finds it incredibly difficult not to confide in the one person who has shown her any kindness since coming to live here, so she opts for honesty and mutters, “I’m… afraid.”

“Oh, darling,” he whispers, stepping into her space and wrapping her up in his arms. Robin tucks her into him, and she presses her face close to his neck, inhales his familiar woodsy scent and feels like she can breathe for the first time in two days. “I wish there was something I could do,” he rasps, “Wish there was some way I could waylay your fear.”

Regina shouldn’t let him hold her like this, they shouldn’t get anywhere near this close. It’s dangerous and so tempting, but she’s too tired, too stressed from being in a constant state of fear and anxiety over her future to fight his display of tenderness. She’s helpless to do anything but to absorb his body heat and let the comfort of his presence envelop her. He’s so kind, so wonderful, so… experienced, and suddenly, she has an idea.

“Actually,” she summons her courage, “Actually there is something you could do,” she burrows into Robin, hiding against him so she doesn’t have to see whatever look he’s about to give her.

“Anything,” he says immediately, “Tell me how I can help.” He strokes his hands up and down her back soothingly as she formulates her request.

“Have you, have you been with a woman who hasn’t… been with a man?”

Robin goes very still, the sweeping strokes of his hands pausing on her lower back.

“Yeah,” his voice cracks in the middle, “A few years ago, there was a woman I loved very much,” he clears his throat, “She hadn’t, and shortly before she was… killed… we did.”

“Was it terrible for her?” she asks, feeling naive and embarrassed as she presses her forehead against his collarbone.

She can hear him swallow before he says, “I don’t think so. Uncomfortable and some pain at first, she said, but she also said that by the end she enjoyed it, that she, _you know_.”

Regina pulls back from him to look in his eyes, uncertain if he’s teasing her. When she catches his expression, however, he’s completely serious, and a little red-faced too.

“Could you help me?” she asks, unable to keep the desperation from her voice. “So I know what to expect when he… when I must… when it happens?”

“I don’t know how to help you with that, darling,” Robin says softly, rubbing her back again, “I can’t tell you much more. Marian, she didn’t really describe it to me in detail.”

“Then show me,” Regina says boldly, grabbing his tunic and fisting the rich fabric tightly. “Touch me, so I know what it will feel like, so I won’t be so afraid when he...” She can’t say it.

Robin shakes his head and opens his mouth to object, but the fear bubbles up in her, and she cuts him off.

“He’s going to make it hurt,” she pleads, “You know he won’t be careful. I don’t know what to expect, I don’t have any idea how awful it will be. But you can help me, you can show me. I feel safe with you, Robin, I trust you - please, take away the fear.”

“I… don’t want you to be afraid,” he admits, tucking her hair behind her ear, concern and confliction clear in his eyes.

“I don’t have to be,” she urges, “You can take it away, you can help me understand what’s going to happen to me.”

“There’s… a bit of a problem with a plan like that,” he says quietly, and Regina tilts her head in question. “There’s… there was a bit of blood the first time with Marian, he might know you’ve done it if there’s no blood when you’re with him.” Robin cringes and looks a little pale.

Regina bites her lip and thinks for a moment. An idea comes to her, and she tells him, “I don’t doubt his _enthusiasm_ will lead to that anyway,” she grits her teeth, trying to be brave, “But if I need to, I can use my magic to cut myself.”

“Christ,” Robin mutters, dropping his hands from her to rub his palms roughly over his face. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want _anyone_ to hurt you.”

“There’s no avoiding it,” she snaps, her patience running thin. “We both know what has to happen, whether you’re willing to help me or not.”

“ _Jesus_ , Regina,” Robin huffs as he starts pacing back and forth across the storage room, hands on his face. “This isn’t about whether or not I’m willing, _god_ , this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

“I don’t care how it’s _supposed_ to be!” she’s getting angrier by the second. “This is how _it is_ , and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I’m asking you as my friend, as my _only_ _friend_ in this entire kingdom, to help me. But if it’s too much to ask, if it’s too _difficult_ for you - ”

Robin comes toward her so quickly that she takes two steps back out of instinct, her back connecting with the wall as he gets right up in her space. He puts his hands on each side of her, bracketing her shoulders as he leans in closer, closer, until his body is pressed against hers, his head ducked down as he touches his forehead lightly to hers.

“It’s _not_ difficult for me, Regina,” he grits out, “That’s the problem, don’t you see? It’s not bloody _difficult_ for me _at all_.”

Regina’s pulse is racing, she can feel his breaths against her lips as he bumps her nose with his, then brings one hand in to cup the side of her neck. His calloused thumb brushes across her cheek gently, soothingly, in sharp contrast to their heightened emotions, and she lets her eyes close, lets herself breathe him in as she tentatively runs her hands up his sides.

“Please,” she asks again, “Robin, you’re the only person I trust. _Please_.”

He mutters something that sounds a lot like _fuck_ , then frames her face with his hands and tells her, “I’ll help you, darling, _christ_ , I’ll help you.”

Robin pulls back from her, runs a hand through his hair and goes to the door, tugging it closed and looping a length of rope through the handle, then tying it off so that it can’t be opened. Regina supposes that she should be nervous, and if it were any other man she’s quite certain that she would be, but she’s been locked in a room with Robin so many times by now that it doesn’t bother her at all. There’s a war raging inside of her head, her propriety and upbringing (her mother’s voice) screaming at her that she absolutely cannot do this, while her rational self tells her that she must, that in order to survive, she should take this opportunity for gentleness, should store this away to get her through what is to come.

There’s a lantern burning on the table, and Robin gives her an awkward look from across the room, motioning toward the light with his head and asking her, “Do you want more, or less light?”

She chews it over - she hasn’t thought about that, but she wants to see what’s coming, wants to know what he’s doing as he does it. Regina has never really been self-conscious and she sees no reason to start now, so she tells him, “More, please.”

Robin’s eyebrows raise and he gives her a little smile that has her asking, “What?” before she can help it.

He shakes his head instead of giving her an answer, and she watches quietly as he turns up the light and moves about the room. Apparently, he has some sort of plan in mind, because he grabs a bale of straw from the stack and uses a dagger from his boot to cut the strings off it, then starts tearing it apart, spreading it out in one corner of the room. Once he’s got a second bale spread out on top of that, he grabs two thick saddle blankets from where they’re hanging on the rack and lays them on top of the straw, then gives her a guilty look and says, “It’s uh, not what you deserve, but considering the circumstances…”

Regina manages to smile even though she agrees - this isn’t exactly how she’s envisioned doing this, but it’s better than the alternative. She certainly prefers horse blankets and straw over the “comfort” of the King’s bed.

He holds out his hand and she goes to him, lets him pull her over to the little spot he’s made up for them, where he sits down and leans his back against the wall with his legs straight out in front of him. Regina stares down at him dumbly for a moment, unsure of what she’s supposed to do, but he saves her from asking when he says quietly, “Come and sit on my lap.”

Regina swallows thickly, those nerves she hasn’t been concerned about suddenly making themselves known. She forces herself to remember that he’s doing this as a friend, that he’s helping her because she’s _begged_ him to, not because of those other reasons that may or may not exist between them, and it’s enough to get her moving.

“One leg on either side of my knees is probably best,” he instructs quietly, reading the confusion on her face as she gathers her skirt and lowers herself next to him. Robin puts his hands on her waist when she’s kneeling beside him and helps her shift over to straddle his legs. “Alright so far?”

Regina scowls and puts her hands on his shoulders. “Of course it is, we haven’t done anything yet.”

He smirks and squeezes her waist, then wipes the scowl right off of her face as he pulls her further up his lap so that she’s sitting back on his thighs.

“You can change your mind anytime,” he tells her, his blue eyes dark in the lamplight. “I won’t be upset - you say the word and I’ll stop. You’re in charge.”

She nods, bites her bottom lip for a moment and asks, “How do we start?”

Robin clears his throat and drops his hands from her waist to the tops of her thighs, playing with the silver trim on her gown as he tells her, “First I’m going to touch you other places that feel nice for a few minutes.”

“Why?” she interrupts.

“Just how experienced are you?”

Regina tips her chin up. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Well, it bloody well is if you’re asking me why I should give you foreplay,” he snaps, then closes his eyes in what looks like regret. “I’m sorry, I’m just, I’m a bit nervous.”

“ _You’re_ nervous?” Regina is suddenly annoyed. “I thought you’d done this before. What on earth do _you_ have to be nervous about?”

“Regina, I care about you,” Robin sweeps her long hair back from her shoulder and cups her face. “I _like_ you. I don’t want to hurt you, I want this to feel good, but you’ve got to help me out a bit here, darling, I have no idea what you’ve done and haven’t done, so I don’t know what’s new for you, what might scare you or what’s old news.”

A beat of silence passes and she says simply, “Oh.”

He’s giving her this little lopsided smile as he waits for her to explain, and finally she tells him, “I’ve had a few suitors who were, not appalling. Kissing I’m experienced in, and… touching above the waist. Some touching, below… over the clothes, of course.” Robin nods encouragingly, so she adds, “And I’ve touched myself, I know how to give myself a release.”

Robin’s head drops back against the wall with a soft thud, and he makes a low groan in his throat.

“Is that bad?” she asks, concerned.

“Fuck no,” he rasps, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he rakes his gaze over her and tells her, “There’s nothing wrong with that, that’s, uh, that’s bloody brilliant.”

Regina grins, appreciating his candor as she runs her hands over his shoulders, down his chest then back up to his neck.

“So, you were going to touch me?” she prompts, and he brings his head up from the wall, nodding as he plays with the hem of her dress again. It’s a lovely gown but not too extravagant - a soft red velvet with silver lace trim, bell sleeves that drape nicely and a wide neckline that shows off her collarbone and shoulders. Her hair is down, curling from the humidity but thankfully not too frizzy, the black a nice compliment against the red of her dress.

Robin inches the fabric up slowly until Regina’s knees are free of it, giving her a little surprised smile when he finds her legs bare. Normally she wears tights or leggings underneath, but today was exceptionally warm and she’d taken them off before coming out to the stables. He runs his fingers lightly over her knees, tracing little patterns, both of them watching his hands as he touches her, sliding up a tiny bit higher with each pass, the fabric bunching up as he goes. His fingers creep higher and higher, up to the tops of her thighs with feather-light touches, before he lays his palms against her and rubs up and down from thigh to knee.

She lets herself play with the ties on the front of the soft white shirt he wears beneath his gray doublet, twirling her fingers in the strings and tugging softly, then laying her palms flat against his pecs. He’s so solid, so warm, and so masculine, she likes the way he feels beneath her, the way he watches himself touching her with such concentration.

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking in his eyes. “Thank you, Robin.”

He smiles sadly and strokes his hands along her thighs, letting them skirt inward, creating goosebumps as he goes. “I don’t want you to think about anything but how you feel, alright?” He slides his hands up, up, until his fingertips hit the edge of her panties. “Don’t think about what I want, think about what feels good for you, about what I can do to make this better.”

Regina nods, knowing she’s being selfish again but unable to stop herself. She needs him to do this, to remove her fear. She needs to concentrate on her body and what he’s doing so she’s not afraid when Leopold takes what he wants.

Robin slides his hands around to palm her ass, squeezing the firm muscles then tugging her closer once again, so her breasts are against his chest as he drops his head and presses a soft kiss to the bare skin on the top of her shoulder. When she doesn’t stop him, he kisses across her shoulder to the side of her neck, pausing to suck softly, which - _ohh_ \- feels so good that she tilts her head to the opposite side to give him extra room. It’s been a long time since she’s let a man touch her, and Robin’s mouth is talented, warm and wet as he licks and nips the length of one collarbone, then the other.

Regina strokes the sides of his neck, scratches her fingernails lightly along the back of his head as he covers her chest in kisses, and she’s so wrapped up in what his mouth is doing that she doesn’t even realize he’s brought one hand up until he palms the curve of her right breast.

Her breath catches and he pauses, but she whispers, “Keep going,” so he does, squeezing her full mound for a moment, then swiping his thumb across until her nipple hardens. It feels incredible, each swipe of his thumb elicits heat in her lower belly, and she can feel herself getting aroused, can’t help but to rock her hips against him and let out a soft _Mmm_ when he pinches the pebbled tip between his thumb and forefinger.

The hand he has under her dress is busy too, has slipped unnoticed under the lace of her panties as he squeezes her ass, tugging and releasing her, encouraging her to move, to rub her core against the growing firmness she can feel beneath her. She takes the hint, sinks down a little more on his lap and aligns her center with him, rolling her hips as she rocks forward and back, heat and moisture building as he tugs on her nipple and sucks at her pulse point.

Dear god, he feels good.

Her breaths are coming fast and hard, a little shaky as she moves against him, rubbing herself shamelessly against his growing hardness. She’s warm all over, lips parted as Robin pulls at the neckline of her gown, kissing every available inch of skin as he rocks his hips up to her, the fingers of one hand playing along the waistband of her panties as she moves.

“Alright, love?” He whispers, his hot breath causing gooseflesh to break across her chest where his saliva is quickly cooling.

“Mmhmm,” she nods, kneading his shoulders and grinding down on him, swiveling her hips and telling him, “More, Robin.”

He nips her collarbone then sucks soothingly over the same spot, dragging the flat of his tongue across her sensitive flesh as he skirts his fingers around and slides them down the front of her panties. Robin drops his forehead to her shoulder as he cups her for a moment, and she stills her hips against him, heart hammering wildly as he slides his hand down, down.

The pads of two fingers brush over her clit and her hips jerk, unused to someone else’s touch, and he pauses, but when she doesn’t protest he slides his hand down further, until he can rub her clit in smooth, little circles.

“ _Ohh!”_ she gasps, rocking her hips, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic. “ _Mmm_ \- that feels good.”

“Is this how you do it?” He asks softly, kissing his way up her neck to her ear. He uses his teeth to tug lightly on her earlobe, then nuzzles the side of her head as he speeds his fingers on her clit.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “Just like that.”

Robin groans in response, and there’s a part of her, a part that she keeps shoving down, that reminds her she’s not supposed to be getting off on this - she’s supposed to be learning, supposed to be understanding what’s about to happen on her wedding night. But she can’t stop the rock of her hips, can’t help from pressing her hands to the back of his head to get him to suck on that ticklish spot just below her ear. He’s warm and solid beneath her, his fingers rubbing those tight little circles over her most sensitive spot, creating liquid heat in her core and getting her to make little gasps and low moans as he continues to work her up.

Robin slides his fingers down further, moaning into her shoulder and murmuring, “So wet, oh god,” as he rubs around and around her entrance, then back up to her clit. He moves his fingers faster, faster, and Regina starts rolling her hips in earnest, chasing the rising arousal he’s creating, wanting him to get her off, no longer so concerned about whatever reason she had that got this started.

Robin slides his fingers down again across her entrance, then puts his lips to her ear and asks, “I’m going to slide my fingers inside of you. Ready?”

She keeps rocking her hips, but she leans back and asks, “Your fingers? Not your…”

His gaze is heated as he nods, “I’ll have more control with my fingers.”

She agrees, and Robin rubs the pads of his fingers through her slit a few times, gathering up the abundance of wetness she’s made for him. God, he’s making her feel amazing. She’s so worked up, breathing hard, pulse pounding in excitement as she draws closer and closer to orgasm.

Robin dips the tip of one finger inside of her, and a thrill of excitement rushes through her. “More,” she commands, and he inches in further, further, until she can feel the press of his knuckles against her core. He thrusts his finger slowly, in and out, but it’s not enough, she hasn’t felt anything painful, hasn’t felt anything but pleasure.

“Can you add another?” she whispers, rocking her hips and watching his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, lips temptingly wet and red looking in the lamplight. Robin nods, sliding his finger out, then slipping two into her. He goes slowly, slowly, and she furrows her brow. It all just feels good, feels incredible. God, he’s making her so wet with this. He moves his fingers in and out for a few strokes, but nothing hurts, _god_ , she just feels good, _so good_ , so she tells him, “ _Mmm_ , another.”

Robin tilts his head as he works the two fingers he currently has buried in her in a slow, careful rhythm as he asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she admits, “Give me another.”

Robin kisses her neck, sucks lightly along her jawline then nips her chin before he slides his fingers out and adds a third. He slowly inches deeper, deeper, curling his fingers as he goes, when suddenly he brushes against something inside of her that makes her gasp.

“ _Ooooh!”_ she moans, hips jerking and lips parting as she sucks in a quick breath.

Robin freezes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she pants, trying desperately to get her heartbeat under control. Oh jesus, whatever he just touched inside of her felt _so_ good. She shouldn’t, but she’s too aroused, too intrigued to stop herself from commanding him, “Do that again.”

Robin frowns but follows her orders, slides his fingers out carefully then thrusts them back up slowly. When they’re all the way back in she feels him curl them, pulsing against the front wall inside of her, causing a white hot shot of pleasure to shoot through her again.

Regina’s hips jerk, she grits her teeth and hisses out, “Oh my god.”

“Jesus, darling,” he whispers against her neck, “This isn’t hurting you?”

“God, no,” she swivels her hips and rolls them, working herself on his hand as the pleasure rushes hot through her core. “Is this the part where it’s supposed to?” She’s so confused, completely at a loss as to why everything feels amazing and not terrible. “Maybe speed up?” she suggests.

Robin moans softly and speeds the thrust of his fingers, slipping his other hand up under her skirt. She feels his palm against her lower belly, then the press of his thumb on her clit, and her rhythm stutters, she lets out a desperate, “Oh yes,” and urges him, “Don’t stop.”

There is nothing but pleasure from what Robin is doing, nothing but the slick, full slide of his fingers filling her, the steady, firm rhythm of his thumb massaging her clit, the rock of her hips as she works herself on him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Christ, you feel good,” he murmurs, “So tight, _fuck_.”

Regina whines, feeling her lower belly tighten, her inner walls tremor and her clit throb as he rubs, and thrusts, and works her pleasure higher, _higher_.

“Can you feel how hard you’ve got me?” he asks her softly, speeding up his thrusting fingers. She drops her hand to his lap and rubs across his hard bulge. Robin moans and keeps talking to her, his voice low and gravelly. “Wish I could feel you on my cock, wish I could slide up inside of you, could fuck you properly, could make you come as I thrust into you over and over. Christ, Regina, you’re so beautiful.”

The heat in her core builds and builds, her clit swollen under his thumb, so sensitive and aching for release. She loses control, lets her body guide her as she grinds on his hand and takes his fingers over and over, gasping when he switches the pace, starts stroking up into her _fast-fast-fast_.

“ _Oh!_ ” she gasps, “Please - yes - like that.” She can’t stop, she’s overheating, writhing, and - _oh, oh!_ \- suddenly her clit throbs, her inner muscles contract and release in quick succession, wringing his fingers as he curls them inside of her. He curses and she moans loudly, tipping her pelvis up and grabbing his wrist to hold him steady, grinding down to take his fingers deeper, trying for one more jolt of pleasure, one more clench as she gasps, and sighs, and shudders on his hand. The pleasure is almost unbearable, white hot, streaking through her core all the way up through the tips of her breasts, a shaking, trembling release of adrenaline that makes her gasp and shudder while he flurries his fingers inside of her. It takes forever for her orgasm to finally crest, for her to finally become over-sensitive and start coming down from it, and they still against each other, both breathing hard, her core pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure he built and gave to her so expertly. Robin slides his hands from her sex to rest on her thighs, squeezing lightly as she presses her forehead to his, trying to catch her breath, still wondering why the hell it didn’t hurt.

“I fear I must apologize,” Robin pants softly, dropping his eyes. “I should have stopped when you said it didn’t hurt.”

Regina pulls back and makes a face. “I didn’t ask you to stop, I needed you to keep going, I needed to know.” An awkward silence ensues, and her temper flares. “How dare you apologize?” she snaps, affronted, irritated with this guilt he’s suddenly expressing. He agreed to help her. _He agreed_.

She slides off his lap, face heating with irritation and embarrassment as she stands quickly and straightens her gown, brushing off little pieces of straw as she tries to get her temper under control. Robin sighs loudly, rubs his hands over his face, then stands, hangs up the saddle blankets but leaves the straw, and he’s still sporting quite the bulge in his trousers when he unties the door. She looks pointedly at it before she can help herself, but he just gives her a grimace and a shrug as he holds out his hand to usher her through the door and mumbles, “After you.”

Regina is shocked by his actions. She wants to ask him why on earth that only felt good when she was expecting the complete opposite, wants to ask him why he’s suddenly regretful for helping her, why he’s rushing them out of here like it isn’t pouring rain and as if they have someplace to be. But he’s clenching his jaw and staring through the door like he can’t bear to look at her, his hands in fists, and there is a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach that tells her that their friendship has just been irrevocably changed.

She mutters a thank you as she passes him, and she heads for the castle, letting the rain soak her through and wash away the tears that fall in reaction to pain that is completely different than what she had planned for.

 

 


	10. Chapter Eight - The Wedding Day

 

 

Chapter Eight - The Wedding Day

 

 

The week flies by much too quickly for Robin’s taste. Leopold keeps him busy entertaining the more important guests who have been arriving for the royal wedding, a task he despises but can’t seem to wiggle out of no matter what types of excuses he tries. It’s boring and obnoxious; he hates the politics and the mind games that always come with these affairs, and it takes all of his patience to continue to smile and act polite amongst so many people he detests. He’d give just about anything to spend the week in the village instead of here.

He’s relieved when King George’s entourage finally arrives. He’s known the crown prince, James, since they were lads, and while they don’t see each other often, they have been known to cause a bit of trouble in the name of fun. Robin needs some fun right now, he needs a distraction from the ridiculous thoughts that have occupied his mind as of late.

Thoughts of Regina. Of her pretty hands stroking up the sides of his neck, the feel of her smooth, soft skin beneath his lips, of her hot, wet heat around his fingers. _Fuck_.

He’s got to stop thinking of her, and he’s got to do it now. He’s already let this go too far, has let his emotions cloud his judgement and put them both at so much risk that he can’t afford to spend one more moment of his time on her. Robin is starting to fall for her, he’s starting to _feel things_ for her, and Leopold taught him long ago what the consequences of that are. Robin will not allow a repeat of what happened to Marian.

So he’s vowed to avoid her, to completely vacate her from his thoughts so that he doesn’t agonize over her wellbeing. There is nothing he can do to help her - he’s no hero, no chivalrous knight in armor that could carry her off into the night, that could save her from his brother. It isn’t possible - Robin _knows_ this, so it’s best for all of them if he just forgets they ever became friends. He’s done what she asked of him, he’s ‘taken away her fear’, and he’s glad to have helped - but that’s where it has to stop.

Robin greets James as soon as he arrives, pulling him off to the side to chat about all the goings on at the castle. James is quiet and reserved today, a bit different from his usual arrogant, outgoing disposition, but it’s a long journey from George’s kingdom and Robin attributes it to fatigue. They agree to meet up later for pints in the great hall - there’s a non-stop slew of pre-wedding celebration happening from now until the ceremony, and Robin is in need of a drink. Or five.

He’s pilfering the kitchen for some freshly baked scones when he overhears a bit of conversation that immediately puts him in a mood.

“She’s a bit long in the tooth, don’t you think?” one of the cooks asks.

“Oh, a bit, but I suppose that’s all for the better, the way the King treats his young women,” another one of the cooks states. “I shudder to think if she were a child what damage would have been done. At least in this case she might last long enough to give us an heir or two, before she’s ruined for good.”

Robin clenches his fist, accidentally smashing one of his stolen scones.

“No doubt, no doubt,” the first cook agrees nonchalantly.

“Have you seen the way she rides horses?” one of the younger kitchen maids asks, “With one leg on each side! Like a man!”

There is a general gasp of disapproval throughout the kitchen, but one of the older cooks interrupts with a stern, “Well, I think it’s all for the better.”

Confusion follows the old cook’s statement so she clarifies, “With her age and the way she rides, at least on the wedding night she’ll already be torn - you all know that’ll be all the mercy she’s given.”

A general agreement bubbles through the kitchen, and Robin wars over whether he should feel relieved or annoyed. The staff should certainly not be discussing Regina’s virginity, nor the wedding night, but he’s glad that there’s a good reason for her lack of pain when they did… what they did. He wishes he could tell her about it, could let her know that it’s to be expected for her, but he can’t. That would involve talking to her, and he doesn’t trust himself not to do something incredibly stupid if he gets anywhere near her. He’s weak for her, and he’s not to be trusted.

Robin grabs another scone to replace the one he accidentally smashed and slips out of the kitchen pantry, unnoticed. He meets up with James, who looks uneasy for some reason, but after a couple of pints and one of the scones Robin gives him, they’re mostly back to their usual banter. Robin is enjoying himself, catching a good buzz on the bottomless pints of ale he’s drinking and smoking a bit of herb that Will gave him the night before, cracking up as James gets more and more inebriated and regales him with ridiculous stories about some sheep farmer in his own kingdom. Robin didn’t know, or he’s forgotten, what a good storyteller James is - he tells his outlandish tales in ridiculous detail, and he’s got Robin nearly in tears as he tells him yet another story about how this farmer thwarted some awful woman known as Bo Peep.

They’re chatting away, exchanging stories and getting royally intoxicated, when Snow White finds her way over to them, and Robin very nearly groans out loud in annoyance.

“James!” she gushes, joining them without an invitation. Robin swears she gets more annoying with each day that passes. “Oh how wonderful it is to see you! My goodness, you’re more handsome than last I saw you.”

Robin rolls his eyes and looks to James, who has never had an interest in Robin’s naive, brat of a niece. To his astonishment, James is giving Snow this look of complete adoration, a look he never would have expected. James is arrogant and crass, chases more skirts than is healthy for a man, and has always joined Robin in his complete disdain of Snow. Apparently, that’s not the case any longer though, because now James is sliding over and making room for the girl, bending over backward to get her a fresh goblet of wine and falling all over himself as he compliments everything about her. It takes all of five minutes for Robin to excuse himself from the table, disgusted with James’ behavior and too sloshed to hold his tongue on the matter.

Robin weaves his way throughout the great hall, jumping in and out of conversations with people he knows Leopold will want him to schmooze, then carefully works toward the exit, intent on polishing off the herb in his pipe and heading to bed. He hopes the combination of alcohol and smoke will put him out for the night, hopes it will maybe even make him sleep straight through tomorrow, and then he won’t have to think about how desolate, how angry, how stupidly heartbroken he is about the whole thing.

He fucking hates his life.

By the time he finishes smoking his pipe, he realizes that he should have just gone straight to bed. He’s extremely sleepy and relaxed, but no longer drunk, thanks to the plethora of food he felt the need to eat while he was smoking.

There’s a feeling he gets on the rare occasion that he smokes, a heightening of his sense of touch that makes everything feel extra wonderful against his skin. He’s wandering down one of the long corridors that leads to his bedchambers, trailing his fingers along the cool stone wall, reveling in the smoothness of it, when he hears voices filtering out from one of the rooms up ahead. He shakes his head, something about one of the female voices grating against his nerves, the condescending tone laced with maliciousness causing him to rub his fingers in his ears, just to ensure he’s not imagining it. The first voice is followed by a man’s voice, soft and gentle - almost soothing - and the contrast is so sharp in Robin’s intoxicated state, that he stops in the hallway, shaking his head to try to make sense of it as he unabashedly eavesdrops.

“Cora dear, let her be,” the man says.

“Oh be quiet,” the woman snaps. “I swear, Regina, I don’t know how you manage to make yourself so upset about every opportunity you’re handed. If you’d stop your romantic fantasizing for one second, you’d see just how much power you’re about to inherit. All you have to do is create heirs for the King, there are much worse fates, you ungrateful child, much worse indeed.”

“I’m not a child,” Robin recognizes Regina’s voice, low, clear and steady. “And if you think that producing children is the only thing he’ll ask of me, then I’m not the only one with romantic fantasies.”

There is the loud sound of a _smack!_ and the low huff of a breath released unnaturally fast as the room falls silent.

“Cora, _please_ ,” Robin finally recognizes King Henry’s voice, and he watches, furious, as Regina’s parents exit the room and take off down the hallway in the opposite direction. The door closes softly, and Robin is moving toward it before he thinks better of it, anger and indignation overwhelming him. He doesn’t bother to knock, just throws open the door and steps inside, shutting it firmly behind him as Regina turns, startled, across the room.

“Robin?” she gasps, “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

“Are you alright?” He asks, moving toward her, completely uninhibited thanks to his earlier recreational activities.

“I’m fine,” she backs away from him, repeating, “You can’t be here.”

Robin notices the bright red of her cheek and states the obvious. “She hit you.”

Regina rolls her eyes and furrows her brow in annoyance. “And?”

“What do you mean, and?” he can’t quite keep the indignance out of his voice. “How dare she? How dare she lay a finger on you?”

“She’s my mother,” Regina cuts him off, as if this explains everything.

“I don’t care who she is,” he snaps, temper rising. “She has no right, _no bloody right_ to touch you! I should send the guards for her, how _dare she,_ she has _no right_ -”

He must have been moving toward her during his rant, because she’s suddenly right in front of him, sliding her soft hands around the back of his head and pulling him down to press his face against the side of her neck.

“Be quiet, you fool,” she scolds him, but her voice is soft, _soft_. “Be quiet.”

Robin wraps his arms around her waist, crushing her to him as he nuzzles the side of her neck, smelling her perfume and that wonderful scent he associates just with her. Regina’s fingers stroke slowly through his hair as she soothes him, and he doesn’t realize he has tears in his eyes until the wetness drips onto her collarbone.

“She has no right,” he repeats, and she shushes him, presses a kiss to his temple and tells him to be quiet again.

Robin can’t keep his hands still, he smooths them across her back, from the swell of her hips up to her shoulder blades, the fine fabric of her gown outrageously silky and smooth beneath his palms. He has the sudden urge to touch more of her and he pulls back, rubs his hands up and down her arms then into her hair, which is loose, long and straight. He presses his forehead to hers, brushing her nose with his, the feel of her skin so soft, _christ she’s soft_ , and he wants to kiss her, wants to kiss her more than anything.

“You can’t be here,” she says quietly, resting her hands lightly on his chest. “Robin, you have to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” he whines, stroking his fingers through her jet-black hair. “I want to stay here, _right here_ , so no one hurts you again. Let me stay, darling, let me stay.” He’s begging like a complete idiot but he doesn’t care. He means what he says.

Regina lets out a shaky breath against him and shifts so her forehead is pressed against his shoulder.

“That’s not possible, and you know it,” she tells him, but her arms are wrapped around his waist now, hugging him tightly to her.

“Then we’ll go somewhere else, somewhere that it _is_ possible,” he bargains, “We’ll leave, we’ll go right now.”

She laughs softly and pulls back, one hand cupping his cheek for a moment before she reasons, “That’s even less possible.” Regina pauses, gives him an amused smirk and adds, “You’re going to be so embarrassed about this when you’re sober.”

He gets annoyed by her comment, pulls back and snaps, “Am I? Well, at least I’m trying to do something about it. At least I’m not just going to lay down and take what fate has in store for me. You could at least _try_ to fight it, for god’s sake.”

She pushes him away and looks to the door. “I’m not going to defend myself to you, of all people. Get out.”

“Of course you’re not,” he mumbles, making his way toward the door. “I’m nothing - just a bit of insurance, about to be made even more useless when you produce those sweet, beautiful children you’re going to make with him. I’m certainly entitled to no explanations from you, my Queen.”

“Don’t call me that,” she pleads, her eyes wet, mimicking his as he puts one hand on the door.

“Goodnight, Regina,” he pulls the door open. “I hope it is the first, not the last, of many.”

Robin stalks off down the corridor, so bitter, so angry, so bloody frustrated with everything, especially himself. After weeks of dreading the King’s wedding day, suddenly tomorrow cannot come soon enough. He needs this all to be done and over with so he can stop being tortured by what ifs. He needs her wedded and bedded, needs to put her out of his head for good so he can go on living the worthless, useless life he’s been sentenced to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Robin is standing next to his brother as she walks toward them in her extravagant white gown, covered by a lace veil and looking for all the world like the queen she is about to be made. Her hair is done up, softly waving and tucked in all over, her crown glittering brightly in the evening sunlight that shines in through the large, arched windows that line the hall. She’s stunning in every way, and Robin wants to, but he cannot take his eyes from her as she comes closer and closer, the picture of absolute perfection. His eyes burn, his hands itch with wanting, his breaths are short and his jaw clenched in restraint as she walks stoically up to his brother and takes his arm, her beautiful dark eyes flitting to Robin’s for less than a second before she looks straight on once more.

He goes numb as the ceremony proceeds, forces himself to disconnect from the acute sense of loss he feels as he watches Leopold slip the ring on her finger and lift her veil. He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he draws blood when they kiss, claps as he is supposed to with the rest of the guests, and stands frozen at the head of the room as everyone proceeds to the great hall for feasting and ‘celebration’.

When the room is vacant he allows himself a moment of weakness, where he sinks down onto the nearest bench, his head in his hands and his broken heart hemorrhaging as he tries to breathe, tries to let go of the despair from what he now must accept.

“Now, now, young Prince,” he hears, and buries his head further in his hands. “Ruby told me of your infatuation, but if I had known it was _this,_ I’d have come to comfort you sooner.”

It’s Granny, and he has no idea how she knew he’d be here, but he’s grateful for her company. She’s the only one who has ever been able to get through to him when he feels like his life is over.

“Why is it, every time I find someone who I…” he can’t say it. “Why is it _he_ takes her away? Will I never be allowed happiness?” Robin is whining and he knows it, but for now, he can feel nothing but misery.

“Because he is the King,” Granny says simply, sinking down next to him. “And _you_ are a soft-hearted fool.”

Robin laughs dejectedly and agrees.

“But, better to be a fool with a strong heart, than a King with a weak one,” she adds, rubbing his back. “I’m proud of you, my boy - I thought after Marian you might’ve grown cold inside, but now I see the fire has been rekindled.”

“And what good is it?” he snaps, then immediately apologizes for his tone - he knows better than to give Granny attitude.

“Oh it’ll do plenty good, in time,” the old lady smirks, nudging him. “How we walk when we are broken speaks louder than how we sit when we are strong.”

“These foolish feelings have never made me strong,” he argues quietly, rubbing his forehead.

“Now we both know that’s not true,” Granny throws back. “You were never more strong than when you were with my darling granddaughter. You were never more yourself, never valued yourself more than when you kids were in love. I haven’t seen you that way since her passing, nor would I have, had Ruby not mentioned it to me, and had I not found you like this, just now.”

Robin sighs and raises his head, sniffs and wipes his eyes as he finally looks at the old woman, who is as close to a real mother as he has ever had. “When will it stop hurting?” he asks, dejectedly.

Granny laughs and pats his knee roughly. “It won’t.”

He can do nothing but stare for a moment as she gives him a knowing look, then he gives in and laughs with her. She offers no more wisdom or advice, and after a few more minutes, they rise and make their way into the great hall together. The feasting has already begun, music and entertainment are in full swing, but Robin lurks at the back of the hall by himself, holding a pint in his hand more for show than out of thirst. He stares at the head table, at his beautiful Regina, and for a moment he tries to pretend that she’s wearing white for him. But it doesn’t feel right - her smile is forced, her back unnaturally straight, and there is fear in her eyes that he would never allow if she were his. So he drops his gaze and exits the hall, goes to his bedchamber and shuts out the world while he tries not to think about the activities that that will take place tonight.

 

 


	11. Chapter Nine - The Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - mildly descriptive denegration/humiliation consistent with the storyline and the expectation of women at that time. I in no way personally support this behavior.

 

 

Chapter Nine - The Preparation

 

 

If Regina thought it was disgusting to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, what she’s feeling now can only be described as humiliation.

Her ladies maids are gathered around her, some working on the ties of her corset, others rolling down her stockings and slipping off her shoes, while a pair of them remove her jewelry and pull the pins from her hair. She’s to be bare for the King when he calls for her - Leopold has specifically instructed that he not have to _waste time with things like clothes_ before having his way with her.

She has gotten through the day by forcing her mind to be blank, and by reminding herself that if she gets desperate, she can use her magic to survive and deal with the consequences later. She reminds herself that Leopold is much older than she is, and is grossly out of shape, so the activities he has planned for her shouldn’t last so long that she can’t will herself through it. When she’d left the great hall to be “prepared” for him, he’d had quite a bit to drink - his wrinkled face flushed red from the alcohol and steps unsteady. She’s hopeful that this will only serve to hasten the approaching activities.

She didn’t have a chance to speak with Robin since his ridiculous visit to her room last night, but she had hoped to clear the air with him today. The things he said, the things he offered were sweet and well-intentioned, if driven by some sort of intoxication, and she wanted to thank him for his kindness, for being so nice to her and giving her a few good memories to think of as her title changes from Princess to Queen.

He had looked so handsome as she walked down the aisle, clad in his royal formal wear, primped into masculine perfection as he stood rigidly next to Leopold. In a moment of weakness she had let her gaze wander to his, and when their eyes locked her stomach had dropped out so suddenly she had had to look away or risk breaking the forced stoicism she had tried so hard to plaster across her face. He was beautiful, and she wished she was his.

Eventually, her ladies complete their duties, stripping her nude, rubbing lotion all over her, brushing out her long hair and finally, covering her with a long, fur-lined robe that bears the crest of the house of Locksley. Her face remains perfectly made up, her light lipstick of earlier swapped out for a much darker shade, a deep red that shows off the natural fullness of her lips, her eyeliner and shadow dark and dramatic, her body smooth and hairless - every inch of her groomed to show her off and hopefully please the King. Regina doesn’t mind the primping - she’s actually glad for it, is welcoming of _anything_ that might help Leopold reach his release faster. She doesn’t pretend for a second that there will be anything close to a release for her - even the thought of it disgusts her.

She doesn’t have to wait long. It was already late in the evening when they took her to get ready, and she’s not surprised that Leopold can’t wait. He’d already groped her more times than she could keep track of this evening, she can only hope that all that enthusiasm works in her favor.

Her ladies walk her from her bedchambers to the King’s - by some stroke of luck she’s allowed to keep her own room, only required to share his bed when he demands it - and her anxiety finally starts to get the better of her. Her tongue feels thick, her hands clammy, and there is a tremble in her chest that has little to do with her state of undress. Regina focuses on taking deep breaths, on ignoring the weakness in her legs that seems to grow with every step, until she’s finally standing outside the large, ornate wooden door.

Someone knocks, the loud sound of it startling in her nerve-wracked state, then the large door opens, and she is ushered inside. Regina tips her chin up and walks in on her own, without any urging from the women around her. She will do this without any help; she is strong, she is capable, and as soon as this is over with, she is Queen. She takes a deep breath and stands before the King.

He’s lounging back on his bed, leering at her as she steps forward, and she’s fine, she’s alright, she has it under control. That is, she has it under control until the door closes behind her, and she realizes that there are a half a dozen other people in the room, all settling in as if they’re going to stay for a show.

And then she realizes that that is exactly what they’re doing.

A knot settles in her stomach and she fights back the urge to throw up. For a moment Leopold makes no move toward her, just continues to stare, then he shifts forward so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and commands, “Take it off.”

There is no belt on the robe, so she carefully parts the front, then lets it slide down her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her elbows for a second, before dropping her arms and letting it fall to the floor. Leopold licks his lips and tells her to turn for him, so she does, makes a slow circle before coming back to face him again.

The King makes a face, rubbing his crotch for a moment before he waves over one of the witnesses and whispers something to the other, elderly man. The man nods and disappears from the room while Regina stands naked, slightly chilled and starting to get annoyed at whatever the hell is taking so long. Can’t they just get this over with?

Leopold is still rubbing himself, the movement unwittingly draws her eye, and she suddenly realizes what the problem is - he’s not aroused. Regina isn’t sure if she’s grateful or terrified by what that means. Does he not find her attractive?

“You’ll have to wait a moment,” he slurs, “I’ve had a bit of drink tonight and I’m not as young as I used to be. We’ll give you a good warm-up and by the time you’re ready for me, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

Regina pales at his words. What on earth is a _warm-up_???

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Robin is startled awake by a furious pounding on the door to his room. He stumbles out of bed, wrenching on a pair of sleep pants as he moves toward the door in the dim light of the single lamp that’s lit, throwing it open and scowling at whoever has the audacity to wake him at this hour.

“Your Highness,” Leopold’s advisor, Sidney, greets him, “His Majesty the King requests you in his chambers.”

“Why?” Robin snaps. That is the last place on earth he wants to be.

“Because His Majesty requests it,” the man says arrogantly.

“Fucking hell,” Robin groans, pulling on his housecoat. “This had better be important,” he snarls, following the quick steps of the advisor and running his hands through his sleep-mussed hair. What on earth could Leopold want at this hour?

Sidney leads Robin into the King’s well-lit bedchambers, Robin bitching at Sidney for the lateness of the hour as the prince pulls the door shut behind him. He turns around to face his brother, and snaps his mouth shut.

Oh god. Oh no. _Why???_

Regina is standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, while his brother reclines in his bed, drinking from a flagon of water and munching on a loaf of bread.

“Brother!” Leopold calls to him, drunken slur evident in his voice. “I’ve a job for you!”

Robin refuses to let his eyes drift to Regina’s perfect form. Instead, he keeps them trained on the King, trying to decipher what the fuck he wants.

“I’ve a bit of a problem, Robin,” Leopold tells him, grinning. “I’ve been into the mead too much tonight, and I need a moment to recover,” he snorts and takes a large drink of water. “But the hour is late, and my Queen requires readying. Since I’m in no state, nor do I care to perform such a task, I’ve decided to reward _you_ with it.”

“Uh,” Robin stutters, “I uh, appreciate the offer, brother, but I really don’t think that I -”

“What is this? Are you not grateful for your gift?”

“Of course I’m grateful,” Robin spits, “But I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to -”

“Do you find her repulsive?” Leopold asks, smirking, already knowing the answer.

“No brother, she is… she is beautiful. _Stunning_.” Robin does _not_ look at Regina.

“Do you find yourself inept?” the King goads.

Robin grits his teeth. “No brother, I am capable.”

“Then I insist you perform this task for your King,” Leopold smirks, “And I insist that you enjoy it - or I will find someone who will.” Leopold looks to Sidney, as does Robin, and the other man is obviously more than excited about the potential opportunity.

“Yes, my King,” Robin corrects immediately, “I accept.”

“Good!” Leopold gets up from the bed, trailing his finger across Regina’s jawline as he passes her on his way to Robin. “We’ll all be next door in my antechamber,” Leopold instructs him. “You have until I’m sober to get her good and hot for me.”

Robin balls his hands into fists and nods as Leo leans in and adds, his voice low, “I don’t care what else you do with her, but I expect that cunt to be clean for me, understood? If you’re going to spill, you pick another place.”

Robin nods his understanding and Leopold claps him on the back. “That’s it, little brother!” the King encourages him, then stumbles into the adjoining room with the witnesses in tow, swinging the door closed behind them and leaving Robin alone with a very naked Regina.

She doesn’t move and Robin doesn’t want her to think him a leche, so he reaches for her discarded robe and drapes it over her shoulders. “Cover yourself, darling,” he whispers, “You must be freezing.”

Regina still doesn’t move, so he adjusts the robe for her, covering her up before he steps around in front of her. Robin keeps his eyes on her face, but when he looks into her beautiful brown eyes, she has clearly detached herself from the situation, a vacant expression securely in place as he tugs the robe tighter around her.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Regina, look at me, it’s Robin, darling, look at me.”

Her eyes drift to his and she blinks slowly, almost dazedly as he squeezes her shoulders. He rubs his hands up and down her arms, and her gaze sharpens, her brow furrowing as recognition flickers in her eyes.

“There she is,” he whispers, cupping her face and giving her a small smile. “You had me worried for a moment.”

“Can we just get this over with?” she mutters.

“I’m not going to uh, I’m not going to touch you,” he tells her honestly, dropping his hands from her. He has no intention of adding to the terror of this night.

“You have to,” she snaps. “Robin, you heard him - you _have to_.”

“Listen,” he tries, “There are ways around this. How about we just get under the covers and we’ll act as if I’ve… done things.”

“How exactly am I supposed to be _warmed-up_ for him if you don’t do what he said? Stop dragging this out and do what you have to do.”

“I’m not doing anything without your consent, Regina. It’s wrong, and I -”

“Then you have it,” she says quickly, her hands moving to the front of her robe. “I consent. Now do it.”

Robin rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration, then quickly realizes his mistake - when he pulls his hands away, she’s pulled the robe open again, and he’s met with her naked front side. Before he can stop himself, his eyes sweep over her, and he bites back a moan.

_Jesus-bloody-christ she’s gorgeous._

He backs up from her quickly, casting his eyes heavenward as if looking for divine intervention, because this is absolutely not at all what he wants to do. Well… he wants to do it, he _really_ wants to do it, but not like this. Not under circumstances where neither of them has a real choice. This is such a fucking nightmare.

Her hands are on his shoulders then, and she’s undoing his housecoat, pushing it off his shoulders then going for the ties on his sleep pants. The backs of her fingers brush his lower abdomen as she pulls the laces loose, then shoves his pants down, pushing him backward toward the bed. Robin tries to resist, but his feet get caught in his pants, and he stumbles backward. Regina follows closely, pressing against his chest until he ungracefully sits on the bed, then she climbs onto his lap, straddling him just like she did in the stable storage room, and - _oh-god-oh-fuck-oh-shit_ \- she rolls her hips and rubs herself against him.

He’s not hard, or rather, he _wasn’t_ hard, but the more she shifts around and presses against him, the faster that’s changing.

“Regina, stop,” he grits out, hands going to her waist - _fuck she’s so soft, feels so good._ Robin keeps trying to push her back, but she’s clamped her thighs around his and she’s pushing on his chest with more force than he expected, tipping him over on his back, which - _fuck-fuck-fuck_ \- allows her to press her bare breasts to his chest.

And that’s it. That’s the last straw for him. She might be strong but he is certainly stronger.

Robin wraps his arms around her tightly, then throws his body weight to the side, using his muscular legs to roll them, spreading his knees wide between hers for balance, and so she can’t get any leverage, as he gets her pinned down on her back.

“Now that’s enough,” he snaps, losing his breath a little as she squeezes her legs around his ribs, fighting him for control. “We’re not bloody doing this.”

“Why are you so determined to make me suffer?” she bites back, “I thought you were my friend, apparently I was mistaken.”

“It’s _because_ I’m your friend that we’re not doing this,” he tries to reason.

“How dare you pretend to be so high and mighty.” Regina drops one hand from where she’s been shoving at his shoulders, shifts slightly and - _fucking-bloody-christ!_ \- she wraps her fingers around his cock, stroking him a few times before she adds, “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. I know that you want me, that you want this. _So please just do it_.”

Robin closes his eyes for a moment, all of the blood that’s been fueling his argument rushing south, making him harden further in her grip as she pumps him. He can’t stop himself for a moment - he rocks his hips against her - _christ that feels good_ \- then he pulls away, shoving himself off the bed and away from her before she convinces him to do otherwise.

There is a tense moment of silence, where she lays on her back in the bed as he pants in frustration from across the room. Then she sits up, wraps her robe around her, levels him with an extremely irritated look, then gets to her feet and heads toward the door to the antechamber as she spits, “Fine.”

“What’re you doing?” he calls, but she doesn’t break her stride.

“I’m getting someone to do what you’re not willing to,” she throws over her shoulder. “Whether you like it or not, _I_ _have_ to do this tonight, _I_ am not blessed with a choice, and if you’re not going to do it, then I need someone who will.”

Regina’s words are like ice water being poured over his head, and the awful realization sets in.

She’s right.

She _has_ to do this - he can get away from this ordeal with a few bad images in his head and a scolding from his brother. _She_ has to live it, has to endure more than just the King’s temper, and if Robin doesn’t do what he’s been ordered to do, she has to find someone who will.

Fuck.

Regina is almost to the door when he finally makes his decision. He lunges for her, grabbing her by the wrist just as she raises her other hand to grasp the door knob. She whips her head around, glaring angrily at him, hurt blatant in her eyes at what she is interpreting as his betrayal, so instead of words, he shuts his bloody mouth and yanks her toward him.

He pulls hard enough that it throws her off balance, a little cry of surprise falling from her pretty lips as he wraps one arm around her waist, threads the other in her thick, dark hair, and roughly presses his lips to hers.

 

 

 


	12. Chapter Ten - The Warm Up

 

 

Chapter Ten - The Warm Up

 

 

Robin’s lips are smooth against hers, his stubble rough but not scratchy as he kisses her desperately, one hand in her hair, the other tight around her waist. She opens her mouth, sweeping her tongue across his lips, then sucking softly at his top lip as he swings her around, her feet off the floor as he moves them back toward the bed. Robin drops his hand from her hair to pick her up, lifting her onto the bed and following quickly after, rucking the sheets back and pulling them up over them as he covers her body with his. He’s heavy on top of her, and Regina feels a little panicked, nips his lips as she pulls her face away and Robin leans back, threading his fingers through her hair as he looks down at her.

She’s breathless from their kiss, from his sudden change of heart, and she takes a moment to study his face. He looks tired, worn and stressed, and she feels sorry that he’s been put in the middle of this, that she’s once again asked him to help her with something sexual that under different circumstances, could have been intimate and beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes burning with the emotions she’s trying so badly to keep in check. “I don’t want you to have to do this,” she clarifies, “But I didn’t know this would happen, and I need you, Robin, I shouldn’t but I –”

He kisses her again, but this time it’s soft, easy, a light brushing of his lips against hers as his thumb strokes across her forehead.

“I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t want this from the moment I first saw you,” he confesses, and her heart flips over. “My darling, if I thought for a second that I could get you away from here, I’d take your hand and I’d run to the ends of the realm to see you safe.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, because he’s too good, too sweet, and he shouldn’t say such things to her, even now, when desperation and fear have overwhelmed them.

“I’d go with you,” she tells him honestly, “If you asked, I’d go.”

Then they’re kissing in earnest, and she’s not sure if she leaned up or he leaned down, but it feels incredible, it feels undeniably _right_ either way. He tastes good, and she can’t help but add her tongue to the kiss, pressing against his lips until he grants her access, and the slick slide of her tongue against his has her moaning into his mouth and digging her fingers into his back to pull him closer.

She’s still wrapped in her robe, but he’s completely bare on top of her, so she has unrestricted access to stroke her hands up and down the long, muscular planes of his back, from his thick shoulders to the narrowing at his hips, and she squeezes him there, lets her perfectly manicured nails bite into him just a little in her excitement. The action causes his breath to catch, his hips rolling against her in a way she finds that she really likes, in a way that has her spreading her thighs to let his weight settle against her core as he drops his head to kiss down the length of her throat.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, sucking at her pulse point, then sliding down to pepper kisses across her collarbone. “My god, you’re so beautiful.”

Regina’s breath hitches in this little high-pitched gasp, and she threads her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp as he works his way down her body, pulling open her robe inch by inch, until her chest is bared to him. Robin presses kisses over the tops of her breasts, then nuzzles between them, his breaths hot against her and causing a wave of gooseflesh to rise, her nipples pebbling with the shiver that rushes over her. He cups her breasts, presses wet, open-mouth kisses over the swells of them, sucking softly as he – _oh, oh god_ – circles in closer and closer to her sensitive peaks, then teases the tip of his tongue over them as she takes in a quick breath and holds firmly to his head to keep him in place. He runs the flat of his tongue over one nipple, then the other – _jesus –_ and all the air rushes from her lungs as she arches up, unable to stop the whimper from leaving her throat with just how good that feels. Robin does it again, and when she whispers, “ _Yes_ ,” he wraps his lips around one of the little peaks and sucks.

This time it’s her hips that move, a shot of pure arousal shooting through her as he suckles her for a moment, flicking his tongue against the pebbled tip before letting go with a slick _pop_ of his lips. She stutters out a soft, breathy, “M-more,” and he switches to her other nipple, rasps the flat of his tongue across it in long strokes before sucking intensely as she rolls her hips up to him, trying to get pressure where he’s sending these hot waves of arousal that make her want to clench her thighs closed and spread them wider at the same time.

Although Regina has brought herself to climax before – she’s no stranger to her body, she knows what she likes and how to pleasure herself – she’s never felt something like this hot anticipation that wracks through her entire body as he works his mouth over her. She’s almost trembling with excitement, with how deliciously good he makes her feel, and she reaches for her robe, pulling it the rest of the way open so she can feel the press of his hot skin against hers.

Robin’s body is beautiful, he’s both trim and muscular, his arms, chest, and back are bulky with muscle, his hips and stomach lean and smooth under her fingertips. When his abs come into contact with the newly exposed skin of her lower half, she shudders under him, arching up to get more of him against her, spreading her legs wantonly as she feels the hard nudge of him against her thigh, instantly aching to feel that against her core. Regina tries to reach for him, wanting to feel his hot length in her palm again, wanting to give him back some of the pleasure he’s giving her, but he shifts further down her body, and all she can do is run her hands across his shoulders and up his thick neck as he sucks across her belly from one hip to the other.

Her stomach quivers under his touch, under the hot kisses and the slick slide of his tongue as he trails it across her, venturing lower and lower as her breathing accelerates. He’s getting close to where she’s wet, where she knows she’s swollen and slick with need, and she has no idea why he keeps moving lower - certainly he can reach her with his fingers from his current position, certainly he can –

She gasps loudly when he slides his tongue through her slit, her back coming right up off the bed as she pushes frantically at his shoulders. What on earth is he doing?! How could he possibly think that that is an appropriate place for his mouth?! _Oh god!_

Robin props himself up on his forearms for a moment, his brow furrowed in what appears to be confusion. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, “Did I hurt you?”

Regina can feel her eyes widen in shock as she realizes that he _meant_ to do that. “Wha – no, you didn’t hurt me,” she huffs, very embarrassed with the sexual act he’s trying to do to her. “I,” she clears her throat, “What on earth do you think you’re doing, using your mouth to, using it… putting it _there_?”

He looks stunned for a moment, then his eyes turn soft, and she feels like an idiot. Apparently, this is something that is acceptable, though she’s never heard of it. No proper lady she’s ever met has mentioned _this_ before. Her mother would faint at the thought.

“I intend to bring you pleasure,” he explains. “To use my lips and tongue to make you feel good, darling.”

She knows she looks shocked, but she can’t help it. Regina feels like she just fell down the rabbit hole into the realm of debauchery.

“By using your lips and tongue?” she repeats, then asks stupidly, “ _There?_ ”

Robin smiles and laughs softly, his breaths hitting the smooth skin of her mound as he looks up at her. “Yes, there,” he clarifies. She gives him a dubious look and he adds, “How about you let me try it for a few minutes, and if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop and we’ll do something else?”

Regina takes a deep breath, trying to brace herself for the decision he clearly wants her to make. _God_. This is _so_ improper.

“Okay,” she agrees, but adds, “But I don’t see why you feel the need to… to…” Her cheeks flush bright red with embarrassment and she flops down on her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before moving one hand up to cover her eyes.

“In a moment, I think you’ll see why.” She can hear the smirk in his voice as he settles back down, his arms wrapping under her thighs so he can move his hands to hold her hips steady as he widens her legs with his broad shoulders.

She’s so uncomfortable to be spread open like this, with his face _right there_ , oh god. It’s so… so… so _lascivious_ , she can’t allow herself to even think what someone would say if she told them about this.

And then she feels the stroke of his hot, wet tongue between her folds again, and she promptly stops thinking.

The sensation is nothing short of remarkable. His tongue is soft and smooth, slick and warm as he runs it over her, lapping gently for several strokes as she tries valiantly to get her breathing under control. She’s so aroused, so insanely, undeniably aroused by what he’s doing that she can’t stop her hips from rocking up a tiny bit with each stroke of his tongue, a sharp _Ohhh!_ expelling from her lips when he sucks softly on her, tugging lightly on the sensitive flesh of her inner lips before pulling back and lapping at her again. Her clit is throbbing for more attention, and she’d tell him that if she was capable of speech, but the best she can do right now is roll her hips and gasp little _ohh, ohh’s_ with each pass of his tongue. She wants this to go on forever - _oh god it feels good_ \- she wants him to do this to her for hours, for _days_.

Robin bathes her sex with his mouth, not just focusing on her slit, but giving attention to her outer lips, her inner thighs, the crease at her hip and thigh. He sucks and licks and nips gently, driving her crazy with arousal, her clit so swollen and diligently ignored as she writhes beneath him, one hand covering her eyes and the other somehow having threaded in his hair as he works her up. He returns to her slit, rubbing his tongue over her then sliding it down to tease – _ohh, mmm_ – at her entrance and – _oh god_ \- he can’t possibly be considering - _jesus!_ – he slides his tongue inside of her, and her hips jerk as she gasps loudly, completely unsure if it’s in protest or encouragement. She thinks it’s encouragement - _oh lord_ \- and she shamelessly rolls her hips up again and again as he thrusts his tongue inside of her.

Regina is burning up, her body on fire as he fucks her with his tongue – because that’s what he’s doing – _oh my, oh god_ – he’s fucking her with his tongue, and _she likes it_. She’s too far gone to be embarrassed any longer though, she’s just a steady thrum of needy energy, desperate for him to make her orgasm. She can’t hear anymore, her eyes are covered and aside from the slick, intense heat he’s creating in her core, she can feel nothing else. When he slides his mouth up and sucks hard on her clit, rubbing fast with his tongue as he holds the suction, she arches up violently, both hands slamming down to twist in the sheets as the throbbing pleasure _builds-builds-builds-builds_ – _oh god, oh god!_ – heat rushing from her core and radiating out as she suddenly crashes over the edge, moaning loudly, hips jerking and thighs shaking as her limbs go taught with the hard, wet rush of pleasure. Her inner muscles contract and release, spasming without control and she suddenly wishes she had his fingers in her so she could clench on them, because _god_ , he’s made her greedy and sinful with lust. Robin keeps his mouth on her, holds her hips steady as he licks and teases her clit, pulling another clench, causing another hot wave of pleasure to flash through her – her sex contracting again and again as she moans breathy, desperate _ahh, ahh, ahhh’s_ , helpless to quiet or calm herself.

There is a vibration against her inner thigh as she comes down from her high, and as she relaxes back against the sheets, she realizes that it’s Robin, laughing quietly against her shaking leg as she recovers.

“I take it you’re alright with my mouth _down there_ now, yeah?” he asks knowingly, nipping her thigh and grinning up at her.

She _Mmm’s_ in response, breaths still coming fast, her blood full of endorphins that make her feel dreamy and sated.

Robin crawls back up her body and lays half on, half off of her, stroking his fingers through her hair as she finally calms beneath him. He leans in to kiss her and she pulls away, gasping out a little, “ _Ew!”_ which earns her another laugh, and she’s starting to get really annoyed with him. There is _no way_ he’s going to convince her that _that_ is acceptable. She’s not putting her lips against his when he just had them _there_.

“Oh, darling,” he drawls, stroking his fingers down the side of her face, “You have no idea how delicious you are.”

Regina wrinkles her nose. “You’re a deviant,” she scolds, running her hands up his sides, “And you’ll not convince me that _anything_ about what you just did is ‘delicious’ in the slightest.”

He smirks, looking boyish and handsome as he challenges, “If you’ve never tasted yourself, how on earth could you know if you taste good or not?”

She’s about to respond that she absolutely _has not_ tasted herself - _good lord he’s filthy_ – when the sound of a door being flung open interrupts her and startles them both.

Robin quickly wrenches the covers up over her, ensuring her body can’t be seen by the slew of people who are now marching into the room. Regina keeps her eyes on Robin, on the tight, strained lines in his face, holding onto their little fantasy, pretending for one more moment, one more second that she’s not about to be used by his disgusting older brother.

“All set then, Robin?” Leopold calls to him, taking a drink from his golden chalice and stepping closer to the bed. “Has my queen satisfied the prince? I certainly hope so, if she has any hopes of pleasing her King.” There is a general round of snickering from the witnesses as Regina squeezes her eyes closed in dread.

Robin’s arms tighten around her, and she has a sudden fear that he’s not going to let her go, that he might put up some sort of resistance to letting Leopold have her. So she takes the choice away from him, pushing him off her as she slides out from under him and to the side, swinging her legs off the bed even as she feels his fingers tighten on her hand. She pulls free of him, though admittedly she wants nothing more than to hold onto him for dear life, though every instinct in her tells her to cling to him. Regina stands next to the bed before the King, her spine straight, chin up, pushing her mind back into that place of false calm and detachment. She can do this. She can, and she will.

She hears Robin shifting around behind her, but she doesn’t turn - instead she watches Leopold carefully. He looks… _off_ \- his face is beyond flushed, almost purple as he stares at her naked front, his left hand flexing and releasing at his side as he sets down his chalice so that he can rub his chest. He’s breathing heavily, and she’d take that as a compliment if his eyes weren’t bulging oddly, if he wasn’t staggering to the side a little. Regina realizes suddenly that there is something wrong with him, something _seriously_ wrong with him, and her concerns are validated when suddenly he tips right over, falling to the floor and gasping for air, clutching his chest as his advisors rush to his side.

She’s pulled away sharply, someone has a punishing grip on her bicep as she’s dragged out of the way, staring in shock as the King writhes in agony. When she finally tears her eyes off of him, she sees that it’s Robin who has a hold on her, clad only in his sleep pants, as he pulls her back, pushing her behind him protectively as she belatedly tugs her robe closed. Panicked shouts fill the bedroom as someone sends for the royal healer, while the others yell at each other to _do something!_ and people run in and out of the room. It’s complete chaos around them, then Robin pulls her from the room, tugging her down the corridor behind him at a run as he escorts her to her room.

He pauses outside the door, pulling her around in front of him and grabbing her firmly by the shoulders as he tells her quickly, “You do not open this door for anyone, understand? You do not leave your room, you do not let anyone in - not your ladies maids, not your mother, not even your father. Do not eat or drink anything. You stay inside and when it’s safe, I’ll come for you. Understand?”

Regina stares at him for a second, the reality of what has happened, and what _could_ be happening setting in.

Robin gives her shoulders a little shake and asks, “Regina, do you understand? This is important darling, please, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she says quickly, shaking her head vigorously, eyes wide with fear. “I understand - don’t let anyone in, don’t eat or drink anything.”

Robin nods, concern wrinkling his forehead as he looks in her eyes. He runs his hands up her shoulders to cup her face, and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. Then he says, “Get dressed alright? I don’t know what’s happening, but we’ve got to be prepared in case we need to get you out of here.”

Regina nods again, then he pulls her into her room with him, checking the entirety to make sure there is no one else inside. Then he gives her a nod as he heads for the door, telling her one more time on the way out not to eat or drink, and not to let anyone in.

She locks the door behind him and gets dressed in one of her more simple gowns, then sits on her bed and waits, feeling just a tiny bit guilty that aside from the fear that’s rushing through her, she also feels relieved. Things are about to get _very_ complicated, she’s certain, but at least she escaped today with most of her dignity intact, and at least the _experience_ she had tonight was a pleasant one. Regina wonders if Leopold is alright, how long it might take him to recover from this attack he’s having, wonders if he will _ever_ recover, and what that might mean for her in the long run.

It’s going to be a long night.

 

 


	13. Chapter Eleven - The Agreement

 

 

Chapter Eleven - The Agreement

 

 

Regina is awakened by a gentle shaking of her shoulder, by her name being called softly, breaking the otherwise complete silence of her room. She rouses slowly, confused for a moment, then jerks upright, eyes flying open in alarm.

It’s Robin.

Her eyes shift to the door but it remains steadfastly locked, the trinkets she stacked in front of it to give her warning should someone have a key are still carefully balanced in front of it, as if the door hasn’t been opened. Regina smoothes her hair out of her eyes, steadying herself for another moment as Robin moves to lean against her dresser, lines of stress and worry creasing his handsome face.

“How did you get in here?”

He smiles, then nods toward the far edge of the room. “Behind that tapestry is a secret passage. I meant to tell you of it tonight, but with all the er, _excitement_ , I didn’t have a chance.”

She stares suspiciously at him for a moment, then scolds, “You might’ve mentioned that before you frightened me into next Thursday.”

He ducks his head in acknowledgment and utters an apology.

A moment passes where neither of them says anything, awkwardness filling the space between them before his eyes harden and Robin says seriously, “The King is dead.”

It is as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Regina pales. Surely he isn’t serious.

“They’re ruling it a heart attack,” he adds carefully, studying his fingernails. “Leo has always had a bad heart. The royal healers found a murmur when he was twenty. That abnormality is why I exist in the first place.”

She cocks her head and brushes her hands across her skirt nervously. There’s an edge to Robin tonight that she’s never seen, nor felt before. Like he’s calculating everything he says instead of just talking to her as he normally does.

“Things are in motion now that cannot be stopped,” he continues. “I must tell you that because Leopold did not consummate his marriage to you, there is a strong argument that you are not Queen. This argument is led by supporters of Leopold’s daughter.”

Regina takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The repercussions of such a thing could be disastrous for her. If she does not belong to this kingdom, then she will certainly be sent back to her own, where her mother will be eager to put her back on the market, once again to sold at auction to the next highest bidder.

“Princess Snow is not yet old enough to inherit the throne. She is only seventeen, and she cannot take command of the crown until she is eighteen.” Robin has an extremely irritated look on his face at the mention of Snow. “Until such a time that Snow White is of age to assume her role as Queen, I have no choice but to fulfill my role as Prince Regent.”

Regina’s eyes widen in understanding. It makes a lot of sense actually - as Robin has told her, he was born as insurance in case something happened to Leopold. Snow White has a legitimate claim to the throne, but in the line of succession, he is _technically_ the regent, which makes him _technically_ in charge now.

Robin stops talking and rubs his hands over his face.

“Thank you for telling me this,” she says quietly. “What will His Regency have done with me?” She doesn’t know how much danger she’s in, if Snow White’s supporters will come for her life or will merely try to drive her from the kingdom. She doesn’t know what Robin intends to do about his newfound power - this wouldn’t be the first time in history that a regent took control and never relinquished it.

Robin gives her a little approving smile. “You really are a clever girl, aren’t you?” She meets his eyes steadily, trying her hardest not to show him any fear. He seems so different from the man she was with up in the tower, so different from the carefree gentleman who brought her apples and played chess, who can’t properly ride a horse to save his life.

“My dear, I’ve told you before - strategy is the key to success.” Regina gives him a little smile. She is no fool - she knows that her life, her power as a royal, her entire well-being now balances on the edge of a knife.

“I have a proposition for you,” he tells her, voice low and serious. “And I’m going to entrust some particularly sensitive information to you, because I consider you a friend, Regina, and I treat my friends with respect - I tell my friends the truth.”

The calculating look Robin gives her goes straight through her, makes her feel uneasy, makes her very nervous for what he’s about to say. She nods, not trusting her voice and not wanting to give anything away.

“I intend to supplant Snow White. I have no loyalty to her or her followers; indeed, her treachery has cost me… everything.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks quickly. If he indeed plans to overthrow Snow White, his future is full of treachery of his own. It scares her that he’s admitting this - makes her extremely anxious to learn what his ‘proposition’ is.

“I’m going to ask you some questions before I answer that, if you don’t mind,” he says quietly, his expression abruptly changing from a look of determination to one of guilt.

Regina nods. This is the strangest, and quite possibly the most important conversation she has ever had in her life.

“The night before the wedding I heard your mother strike you,” he confesses quietly, and she cringes with embarrassment. “I know of her cantankerous disposition by reputation, but I’d like to know if that was the first time she’s laid hands on you?”

Regina’s temper flares. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, regent or no,” she snaps.

He cocks his head to the side and softens his voice, “Do you desire to return to your kingdom?”

She grits her teeth, annoyance adding sharpness to her voice as her temper gets the better of her. “Whether or not I wish to return to my kingdom is not the question you’re trying to discern. If you haven’t the courage to ask me what you really want to know, I’ll appreciate you to spare me the mind games and keep your mouth shut.”

Regina stands, pacing across the room, her stress level rising by the second. He’s playing with her and they both know it. She just wishes she knew why, wishes he’d just get to the point of all of this.

“Is your mother a psychotic bitch?” he asks boldly, and it causes her to stop, her dark brown eyes flashing to his as he calls her bluff.

“Yes,” she grits out, jaw clenched in anger.

“If I could guarantee your safety, would you prefer to stay here, under my protection?”

For the first time tonight Robin looks hopeful, looks much less like the Prince Regent and more like his old self.

“Yes.”

“Your magic - I know you can make a fireball in your hand, that you can move objects from across the room, that you can even teleport with it - what else can you do?”

Regina’s curiosity is starting to get the better of her now, tamping down her anger and pushing her to give him an honest answer. “I can conjure objects from thin air, heal wounds, cast protection spells, and I have the ability to enchant mirrors so that I can see through and travel between them.”

Robin looks thoroughly impressed by her answer, and she feels a little rush of pride over it. Most people are afraid of magic, they don’t want to know anything about it, they’d rather pretend it doesn’t exist at all.

“Princess Snow is afraid of you,” he tells her. “She has been since you told her off, that night Leopold locked you in the tower.”

Regina hums in approval. Good. She thoroughly dislikes the girl, especially now that she’s driving the movement to see Regina’s title revoked before she’s been able to fully accept it.

“My proposition is this,” Robin pauses, straightening up and taking a deep breath as he locks his blue eyes with hers. “If you will help me get rid of Snow White, I will ensure your safety in this kingdom for the rest of your days. I will protect you with my life, I will treat you as an equal in all things, and I will give you the freedom to choose the life you want.”

“How?”

“Marry me.”

She stops breathing.

“Marry me _tonight_ ,” he amends quickly. “As wife to the Prince Regent you’ll become a citizen of this kingdom, and while I remain in control, you will hold more power than Snow, you will have the protection of the royal guard, you will have anything you could ever want. As my wife, I will expect nothing of you - I will ask nothing of you. You are my _friend_ , and I offer this as yours - you will never be forced to perform _wifely_ duties. Regina, if you help me strike revenge on Snow, I will give you anything that is in my power to give to you. Once Snow White is dealt with - and I’ll be honest with you, it may take a few weeks for the circumstances to be right - but once Snow is dispatched, if it is your will, you can choose to take on the role of Queen of Misthaven, or you can choose to go your own way to live your life however you see fit. I swear on my life that I will honor these terms.”

Time stands still. Regina’s pulse pounds in her ears. She feels faint for a moment, then strong - stronger than she has ever felt in her life. She knows, deep down, that if she wants any hope for happiness, for freedom in her future, there is really only one choice she can make. She hears their conversation as if she is far away, as if she is outside of herself, watching the situation unfold.

Then finally, Regina raises her chin, straightens her back, looks Robin dead in the eyes and says determinedly, “I accept.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Their wedding is, for lack of a better description, the fast and dirty version of what Regina experienced earlier that day. Robin feels a bit guilty - he knows she deserves better, but the urgency surrounding their circumstances circumvents his ability to do anything to change it. He wishes he got to see her in white for him, wishes he got to watch her with rapt anticipation as she walked down a long, red velvet covered aisle with love and excitement in her eyes. But once again, he’s being cheated out of a wedding to a beautiful woman, and he can’t help but to feel just a touch bitter about it.

She looks gorgeous in spite of the short amount of time and lack of resources she was given to ready herself. She’s changed into a softly flowing lavender gown with dazzling silver trim that hugs her upper body and clasps behind her neck, showing off her toned arms and shoulders. She’s pulled the front of her raven hair up and back in some kind of half-up half-down style that makes her look mature, makes her look positively regal - especially when paired with the smokey eye shadow and thick dark liner she’s done to accentuate her already dark eyes. Her lips are painted a pretty pink to match, the fullness of her lips so alluring he has to drop his eyes to keep from staring. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. _Christ_.

Robin feels rather lackluster in his cobalt tunic and pants - wishes he had his royal formals on or at least a silver stitched doublet, and it’s odd that he cares at all about what he looks like right now - his looks should be the last thing on his mind. The criticality of what they’re doing should be first and foremost in his thoughts, followed closely by the way in which he’s planning to usurp Snow White. But once again, when it comes to Regina, he finds himself wanting to look good for her, wanting her to want him, hoping like a fool that the things they’ve whispered to each other under duress and while in the throws of passion are true.

They’re standing in the antechamber to Robin’s bedroom, about fifteen people squeezed into the room as witnesses, including John, Granny, several advisors, and the chancellor, who is speaking so quickly as he rushes through the proper proceedings that Robin can barely keep up with what the man is saying. Regina looks completely composed as she says her _I will_ and _I shall_ and _Until death_ in response to the chancellor’s questions, and he’s proud of her - she is so strong, so brave. When the elderly man turns and asks Robin the same things, he makes a complete arse of himself when he misses the question entirely, too distracted thinking about how much he’s grown to like Regina, and how he can’t believe that in the next ten minutes he’s going to be able to say the words _My Wife_ and mean her.

When the chancellor clears his throat in irritation, Robin feels her fingers in his, squeezing gently to pull him from the daze he’s fallen into. He immediately says the appropriate phrases, meaning them much more than he thought he would, then pulls his signet ring off of his little finger and slides it onto her _middle_ finger, the band too large to properly fit her ring finger. He gives her a guilty smile, and her mocha-colored eyes are soft with understanding as she looks at the ring, smoothing the fingers of her other hand across his family crest before giving him a little smile in return.

And then there’s nothing left to do but kiss his bride.

He’s kissed Regina just hours earlier, knows the smooth, soft slide of her lips pressed against his, but he cannot deny the rush of adrenaline that hits him in this moment that she becomes his, and he hers. She’s not the woman he thought he’d marry, but _christ_ , there’s a guilty part of him that’s starting to think that’s not such a bad thing anymore.

He allows himself the fantasy for a moment, for _just_ this moment he lets himself pretend that she’s chosen this because she loves him, because she wants him, because she can’t live without him. Robin pulls Regina close, wraps her in his arms as he ducks his head to press his lips against hers, and for this one moment, he fools his battered heart into thinking it’s true.

It’s beautiful, this feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss he feels with her soft lips pressing against his. She surprises him when she parts her lips for an open-mouthed continuation of the kiss, sucking softly at his upper lip as he tightens his arms by instinct, pressing her flush against him as he slides one hand up to thread through the ultra fine hair at the nape of her neck. He slides his tongue between her lips, tasting her, teasing and flicking as she obligingly tilts her head further to allow him to probe deeper into her mouth. She’s fucking perfect, this woman, she’s bloody amazing.

They part after just a few short seconds, and he presses another soft peck to her lips before they separate entirely. The chancellor announces them as married, and the crowd clears out quickly, save for Granny, John, and to his surprise, King Henry.

Regina immediately goes to her father, who wraps her lovingly in his arms and walks off to the side with her, speaking too softly for Robin to hear. Robin shakes hands with John, and Granny kisses his cheeks, holding tightly to his wrist as she drags him to the other side of the room, pulls his head down and speaks quickly into his ear.

“You’re a married man now, Robin, and while the circumstances aren’t what you’d hoped for, _I_ expect you to honor your commitment, young man,” she says fiercely, holding tight to the back of his neck. _Bloody hell,_ she’s got a strong grip. “I don’t care what sort of deal you made to get her to go along with this - you’re a husband now and you’ll act like it, or you’ll have me to answer to, understand?”

Robin would laugh at her warning if he didn’t know how serious she was. But he knows that Granny treasures the sanctity of marriage, knows that she’ll tan his hide if she hears of him treating Regina poorly, and while he won’t force Regina to do anything she doesn’t want to, that doesn’t mean he won’t be a good partner. It doesn’t mean he’s not serious about taking care of her, protecting her, and helping her attain the freedom he knows she yearns for. So instead of laughing, Robin nods solemnly and tells Granny, “Yes ma’am. You have my word.”

She pats his cheek roughly and says, “ _Good,_ ” then she’s tugging John from the room, reminding him that they did indeed witness the consummation of this marriage, and how she’ll tan _his_ hide if he ever admits to anything else.

King Henry approaches him, sadness in his eyes as he shakes Robin’s hand and congratulates him as Prince Regent. Robin expects some sort of threat about the way Robin should treat Regina, but Henry says nothing of the sort. Instead, the older man just turns those sad eyes back to his daughter for a moment, tells her he loves her once more, then leaves the room without another word. Robin feels disappointed in the man.

Then it is just a husband and his wife, an empty bed, and a loaded question hanging in the air between them.

Will they, or won’t they?

 

 


	14. Chapter Twelve - Sealing the Deal

 

 

Chapter Twelve - Sealing the Deal

 

 

Robin stares at the door for a moment, then turns to Regina. “You’re under no obligations, darling,” he says quietly.

She raises her eyebrows at him, then reaches up behind her and unclasps her dress, slowly pulling it down to expose her gorgeous body to him. She has nothing on underneath except for the tiniest pair of lacy white knickers Robin has ever seen in his life, and he clenches his fists to keep from reaching for her. _God_ , he wants her.

“I mean it,” he adds, trying to keep his eyes on her face. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, I know that you didn’t have much choice in this, and I -”

“Come here,” she drawls, her voice sultry and low. “I’ll not be robbed of a second marriage for lack of consummation.” Robin stares, surprised by her acceptance. “Now come over here, my husband, and bed your wife.”

He gets hard for her so fast that it hurts.

Robin strides quickly to her, his hands moving to her hips - he’s got to touch those gorgeous little knickers - and he locks eyes with her as he walks her back toward his bed. She pulls the ties on the front of his shirt, loosening the collar for him, then grabs the hem and divests him of it just as they reach the edge of the bed. He’s about to lean into her, to press her down and get her on her back, but before he has the chance, she drops her head to kiss his chest. Her pretty hands sweep up and down his abs, stroking him sensually as she works her lips up to his throat, sucking hotly just before she reaches his chin, then nips along his jawline and up to his ear.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” she asks softly, “Does this feel good?”

Robin’s breath catches as she pulls his earlobe gently between her teeth, then licks the shell of his ear. “Yeah,” he whispers, his fingers playing with the waistband of her knickers. “Feels so good.”

“I like the way you taste,” she whispers, sucking at his pulse point. “I like the way your beard feels against my skin.” She continues to kiss him, trails back down his neck to his collarbone, sucking lightly and flicking her tongue against his overheated body as she goes. “I like the way your body feels against mine,” she pauses to lick his nipple, scraping her teeth lightly over it before pulling back a bit, her soft hands tracing the muscles of his abs down to the waistband of his trousers. “Do you like the way I feel against you?”

He's about to answer her, about to tell her that he fucking loves how she feels, that he longs to touch her all the bloody time, but then she slips her hand down the front of his trousers and he forgets the question entirely.

Her fingers are so, so soft as she brushes them over his length, the pads lightly drifting over him from his tip to his balls, and it’s such an honest exploration that it nearly takes his breath away. She’s gorgeous, curious, and seems so eager, and he wants to let her touch him like this, wants them to take their time if they’re actually going to do this.

“Is this appropriate?” she asks quietly, running her fingers up and down in the snug space of his trousers. “Should I touch you like this?”

Regina lifts her face to look at him, and he kisses her lips softly, just a tiny bit desperately as he tells her, “Uh, yeah, love, any, uh, any time you want to touch me like this is completely fine with me.”

“But do you like it?” she asks, dropping her eyes back down, “Will you show me how you do it, so I can do it the way you like?”

This time, Robin can’t quite tamp down the little moan from escaping his throat. She’s so innocent, _fuck_ , she’s innocent but _not_ at the same time, and _christ_ , now she wants him to wank for her? He’s not sure he’ll survive it, but she looks so serious about it that he’s willing to try.

Robin unbuttons his trousers and slides them, along with his underwear, off, then removes his socks as well, so that he’s standing naked before his _wife_ with a hard on that positively throbs for her. “Perhaps we should get into bed,” he suggests, his voice rough with arousal, “We can lay together and I’ll show you uh, how to, _handle_ a man that way.”

Regina nods solemnly, and Robin almost laughs. She’s beautiful in her sincerity right now, and he loves her for this, for her concentration and extra effort in trying to learn what to do to please him. She doesn’t really need to do anything - just looking at her, even when she’s fully clothed, pleases him. He could get off to the curve of her shoulder, to the long, muscular lines of her thighs, to the fullness of her breasts and arse beneath soft velvet or silky satin.

But if she wants to learn to give him a hand job, he’s certainly not stupid enough to argue.

Robin gets in bed and shifts to the middle, laying on his back and motioning for her to straddle him. She looks hesitant at first, but he does his best to reassure her, tells her how this will be easiest for her to see what he’s doing, so she - _fuck_ \- shimmies out of her knickers, takes the barrette out that’s holding back her hair, then climbs on top of him, sitting back on his thighs as he takes himself in hand.

As she settles on him, he shifts his legs a bit further apart, spreading her knees with the action, and now he can see the pinkness of her inner lips, which are positively glistening with her slick arousal. He bites his lip and squeezes his cock out of instinct, pumping himself for a few smooth strokes as he widens his legs again, opening her up a bit further so he has a better view. _Fuck,_ he wants to put his mouth on her, wants to suck those sweet, slick lips and tease her clit, wants to fuck her cunt with his tongue and get her dripping-fucking-wet just before he shoves his cock into her for the first time. _God_.

Robin starts to work his length with purpose then - long, smooth, steady strokes as her dark eyes carefully watch his movements. “You’re wet, darling,” he says quietly, pumping a bit faster, “Is that for me?”

Regina smooths her hands up and down her thighs for a moment, then gives him a soft, _Mmhmm_.

“Yeah?” he probes, working the head of his cock for a minute - _fuck that’s good_ \- stimulating his most sensitive area before going back to long strokes. “Put your hands between your thighs and spread yourself so I can see.” He keeps pumping - he doesn’t actually need the view, but _christ_ , he’s pretty sure she’ll do it for him, and he figures he should try for it. He has no idea if she intends to keep fucking him after tonight, and _god,_ he wants to memorize her in case this is it.

Regina spreads her knees wider, leaning back as she slides both hands to her center and gently pulls her outer lips apart so he can see. She’s pink and swollen and so, so slick - Robin groans with the sight of it.

“Oh-my-god,” he rasps, working his hand faster on himself, “You’re soaked.”

She holds the position even though he hasn’t told her to, so he lets himself stare at her, lets himself think about how good she’s going to feel around him, and suddenly he needs to stop wanking or he’s not going to get inside of her before he finishes.

He lets go of his rigid length, and Regina frowns, sitting forward and asking, “What’s wrong?”

Robin laughs softly beneath her, runs his hands up her thighs and says honestly, “Absolutely nothing. But I can’t keep looking at your tight little cunt and stroking myself - you’re too hot and I’m entirely too close to release to keep going.”

She smirks down at him, cheeks flushing bright red with his language, her long hair falling over her shoulders and in her eyes as she runs her hands up his chest. “That’s too bad,” she teases, “I was really enjoying my lesson.”

Robin moves his hands up to her hips, squeezing her curves for a moment before his hands trail up her ribs, his eyes dropping to her tits as he reaches up to play with her nipples. “If you’re a good girl,” he says, circling his thumbs over the sensitive peaks, “Maybe I’ll show you later, while you show me how _you_ prefer to be touched.” He pinches, twists and tugs on her pebbled tips, wanting to put his mouth on her but unsure if that’s wise right now. He’s so hard for her, _christ_ \- he feels like a teenager again, full of lust and unable to quell his excitement.

He slides his hands down, then slips one between her thighs, groaning when he feels her hot, wetness coating his fingers. He rubs her clit, enjoying the way she arches back, shoving her hips forward in enthusiasm, and it gives him an idea.

“Shift forward, darling,” he instructs, moving his hands to her hips and pulling her forward. “Rub yourself on my cock.”

Regina nods, bites her bottom lip and moves up his body, sinking down to press her wet core to his length, which is rigid and laying against his belly, aching for stimulation and release. When she presses against him, she moans softly, and he rocks his hips up, sliding himself through her slit as she sucks in a quick little breath then rocks her hips in return.

“Ohh,” she gasps, “You’re so, _mmm_ , so smooth and warm - feels good.”

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Work yourself up on me, get me nice and wet, grind that hot little clit on my dick.”

She’s fucking beautiful, her cheeks and chest flushed, nipples hard and breasts swaying as she rocks against him, _this close_ to taking him inside of her. He’s enthralled with her, with the hot little gasps and moans and whines she makes, with the way she grinds down and swivels her hips - _fuck._ All he can think is that for a virgin she’s ridiculously sexy - she’s naturally sensual - she’s so fucking hot he’s going to have to really be careful not to spill before he gets her to come for him.

She’s starting to lose a bit of control though - she’s leaning forward with her hands on his chest as she rubs herself on him, and his hands have drifted to her arse, helping her to move on him, feeling her wetness coat his cock more and more with each second that passes.

“Are you ready?” he asks eagerly, unable to resist her anymore, _needing_ to get inside of her. “Are you ready to feel the stretch of my cock inside of you? Ready to feel what it’s like to be fucked? Ready to be my wife?”

“Yes,” she moans, her nails digging into his pecs as she rocks, “ _Mmm_ , Robin, make me yours.”

He rolls them quickly so he’s on top of her, and he presses his lips to hers in an intense kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in the same way he intends to thrust his cock - smooth, slow, deep. She hums under him, her hands sliding up his back in a soft caress as he pulls her knees up a bit, getting her into the right position to take him, not wanting to hurt her if he can help it.

“Give me your hand,” he rasps, sucking hard on the side of her neck, pulling the blood to the surface, marking her. She brings her hand to his and he wraps her fingers around his cock with his, pumping him together as he tells her, “You guide me to you when you’re ready.”

Regina nods, and suddenly there is wetness in her eyes. Robin stops immediately, but she shakes her head no, explaining, “Thank you for being so… careful. I didn’t think that I’d get to have this like _this_.”

She pulls his hot length toward her before he can respond, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance. Robin catches her eyes and she nods, so he kisses her softly as he presses his hips forward, nudging slowly, _slowly_ into her, until just the head of him is buried in her.

Regina is breathing unnaturally fast beneath him, and he pauses to kiss her breasts, to lave his tongue over her nipples and nip the lush swells. He sinks in a bit further, then asks if she’s alright, but she reassures him so he keeps pressing in, further, further, until he’s completely sheathed inside of her, panting with arousal and anticipation.

She’s so bloody tight he might come without even thrusting. _Christ_.

Robin takes a moment to steady himself, takes a few deep breaths and lets his body press down on hers, bracing on his forearms as he rests his forehead on her collarbone. She’s so, _so_ tight - _god -_ he just needs a moment - _shit -_ just one minute to get himself together.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks quietly, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Robin raises his head and smirks, “I uh,” he chuckles quietly, “You feel so good I just need a moment to regroup.”

“I thought you’d done this before?” Regina looks confused and suspicious.

Robin laughs and kisses her quickly, then presses his forehead to hers as he explains, “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s ever felt quite _this_ good.”

The approving smile she graces him with is so brilliant he can’t help but return it. Regina is so beautiful - _god_ \- he’s got to stop staring at her and start fucking her, but he just can’t get over what a lucky bastard he is.

Robin slides out slowly, then thrusts in gently, letting her adjust, listening intently for any sign of discomfort from her. He should have warmed her up more, should have gone down on her and used his fingers to get her off once first, but she threw him for a loop with her request to watch him, to learn him, so now he’s paying the price for his eagerness by having to move at an excruciatingly slow pace.

She’s so wet though, that it’s almost obscene. He slides easily in and out of her in spite of how tight she is, and he gives her several long, slow strokes before he starts to pick up the pace. He kisses across her chest as he rocks carefully against her, leans slightly to the side to brace on one arm so he can touch her with his free hand, kneading her breast and playing with her nipple for a moment before he rubs soothingly across her stomach, then presses down on her lower belly. Regina gasps, her pretty lips parting as he holds the pressure on her and thrusts a bit faster, knowing he’s hitting her g-spot from the way her chest and cheeks flush pink and her breath stutters out. She grips his forearm tightly, holding his hand in place as her brow furrows, and he moans when he feels the additional wetness she makes for him with each stroke.

“Bend your knees, darling,” he instructs, and she immediately does it, which tilts her hips up to him, and on his next stroke he pushes into her faster, a bit harder, and she cries out this high pitched little whine, her back arching as he bottoms out in her. “Oh, that’s it love,” he tells her, fucking into her faster, sliding his hand from her belly to press two fingers to her clit.

She’s moaning softly, bending her knees even further to cradle his hips against hers, her fingers digging into his back, and he loves that’s she’s figured it out, that she’s moving to help him hit that ultra-sensitive spot deep inside of her as he starts to rub her clit in firm little swirls.

“Oh god,” she gasps, working her hips against his, “Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god.”

“Feel good?” he rasps, breathless. She feels so fucking amazing to him - _christ_ \- it’s so hard to hold back, to not pound into her and chase his release. It’s sweet, pleasurable torture - he never wants to stop fucking her.

“Y-yes,” she stutters, rocking her hips. “I need, I need -” she doesn’t finish her sentence, just moans instead and arches her back again, her eyes pinched tightly closed as she bites down on her lip.

“I know you do,” he whispers, dropping his head to suck hard on her nipple. “I’m going to give it you,” he reassures her, speeding his hips again, the slick slide of his cock making obscene noises in the quiet of the bedroom. Regina hitches up one leg and wraps it around his hip, pressing her heel into his arse as he strokes into her, and he praises, “Such a good girl - that’s right, do what feels good.”

Regina’s hips move enthusiastically under him, working up against him as he drives in, even - _fuck_ \- swiveling on the next stroke as he thrusts quickly into her, trying to get deep each time, his fingers swirling fast on her clit as she soaks his cock with her arousal. Robin presses hot kisses to her neck, sucking and flicking his tongue against her, lapping at her skin and tasting her salty sweetness. He nips her chin and kisses along her jawline to her ear, then whispers to her, praising her, trying to drive her arousal up.

“Your pussy’s so tight,” he rasps, nipping the shell of her ear as he thrusts harder, _harder_. “So wet too, _fuck_ , who knew you’d be such a wanton girl? Been craving this haven’t you? Been needing someone to stretch this hot little cunt for ages, isn’t that right?”

She gasps and arches beneath him, clutching at his back as he lets himself lose some control, lets himself fuck into her how he wants - hard, fast, and frantic. He rubs her clit rapidly, loving how her wetness completely drenches him, the roll of her hips so fucking sexy as he sucks mark after mark into her neck in a wave of possessiveness he has never felt before - not even for Marian.

“Ah yeah, take it love,” he encourages when she wraps her other leg around him. He pulls his hand from her and tells her, “Rub yourself for me now, rub your clit so I can fuck you hard like you need.”

“Oh god, _oh god,”_ she moans, slipping her hand between them to touch herself.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grits out, sliding his arms under her to wrap his hands over the tops of her shoulders. He starts to ram into her in sharp, punctuated thrusts, going balls deep on every stroke, trying not to come - _christ_ \- trying to wait for her, but _\- jesus -_ she’s pushing him to his limit, so tight and hot and wet, so enthusiastic and so bloody gorgeous - _fuck_. Robin bites the inside of his cheek, redirecting his attention away from his aching cock to buy himself some time as he feels her legs start to shake around him.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he thrusts deep, _deep_. “Take that cock, wife - got me so hard, gonna fill that pussy, gonna come so hard you’ll taste it.”

Regina arches up, gasps loudly and moans, her voice a mix of high pitched whines and low, throaty groans, then she tells him, “Close - god, I’m, I’m - oh god please, _please_.”

Robin pistons quickly, she’s almost there - _thank god_. “Please what, love?” he manages to tease, slowing down. “Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t stop,” she begs.

“Don’t stop what?”

Regina whines desperately under him, her fingers moving fast between their hot, sweaty bodies, her hips moving frantically as she tries to fuck herself on him. “Please, _please!”_

“Tell me,” Robin commands, almost stopping his hips completely.

“Don’t stop fucking me, make me come, please-please-please,” Regina pleads, her voice full of intensity, need, and arousal.

“Good girl,” he praises, then fucks her fast - _faster_ , his thighs and abs burning with fatigue, thrusting so deep, she’s so slick, and _fuck_ \- finally, she comes _hard_ \- comes like a fucking fountain, soaking him with her creamy release as she arches, her head thrown back, eyes slammed shut and lips parted as she lets out a hoarse, throaty moan, her hips stuttering and twitching under him.

Robin keeps moving as her inner muscle contract and contract on him, and he’s confident that she’s so worked up that he can give her another if he can just hold on for one more minute. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” he instructs, and she’s shaking beneath him but she does as he says, slips her arms around his neck and buries her face in the crook of his shoulder as he keeps up the frantic pace, spreading his knees wide as he shifts up onto them, using the spring of the mattress to bounce her body beneath him.

“Oh, _ohhh_ ” she pants against his ear, “I, I can’t Robin, I _can’t_ -” but he ignores her - she’s still clenching on his cock, still milking him with those hard spasms, and he knows, _knows_ with just a few more strokes he can push her over the edge again - or he’s going to fucking die trying.

Robin threads his fingers in her silky, dark hair, kisses her lips, her throat, then bites her bottom lip and tells her, “You’re going to come again for me, wife - I’m not stopping until I’ve fucked you senseless.”

It doesn’t take as long as he’d thought, actually, to get her off again. On one particularly hard stroke, her legs fall from his waist and he takes advantage of it to spread her knees wide, opening her up beneath him, her sex spread open to take every thrust, allowing him to get deeper than ever. When he straightens his legs out and thrusts deep and _stays_ deep, Regina digs her heels into the mattress and tips her hips up, then chokes out a desperate, needy moan. She immediately starts to contract around him again, and - _fucking hell -_ as she clenches around him he can’t stop this time, she’s too tight, too wet, and he starts to come inside of her, then remembers he shouldn’t fill her - they can’t risk a child in this situation. So he wrenches himself back, but she doesn’t let go of his neck, and he ends up spraying his release against her swollen lower lips as he drops one hand to stroke himself to completion, the hot jets of come making a mess on his hand, her soaked, pink folds, and the silky, soft sheets beneath them.

He drops down heavily on her once he’s finished, trying not to crush her but too spent to move off of her entirely. He’s breathing hard, sweating and flushed, his balls drained and cock softening as he presses kisses to her cheeks, her lips, the tip of her nose. Regina is sweaty too, her hairline wet with perspiration and cheeks red, her bottom lip swollen and her body still shaking beneath him as they slowly, slowly come down from their endorphin rush.

When he finally catches his breath, Robin brushes her hair out of her eyes and shifts back onto his knees between her thighs, using his thumbs to spread her open so he can see his come dripping down her slit, so close to it being inside of her that he has to resist the urge to coat his fingers with it and dip them into her. _Fuck,_ he wants to come inside of her. _God_ , he can’t get the thought out of his head. Robin thinks of how jealous he was that Leopold was going to make beautiful children with her, and smirks with the realization that now _he_ might have the chance. He caves for a moment, smears his come all over her folds, circling her clit and rubbing the thick white fluid against her pink core, then has to force himself away from her when he starts to dip his thumb inside of her, entirely too tempted to do something that he’s certain would unnecessarily complicate things in a few months.

Robin shifts over to lay on his side next to Regina, staring at her beautiful profile, stroking his fingers over her plump breast and circling around and around her nipple. He thumbs over it, pebbling it and playing with it as she rubs her hand over her eyes, then rolls onto her side to face him.

“ _Jesus_ ,” she breathes, biting her bottom lip and staring at his mouth.

“Yeah,” is all he can respond.

“What um, what happens now?” she asks, looking anxious.

If Regina thinks he’s going to eject her from his bed, she is sorely mistaken.

Robin slides closer to her, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her. He takes a gamble, pretty sure he’s reading her correctly as he tells her, “Now, we sleep for a bit, and when we wake we do it again, and again after that - as many times as you want, as many times as you can take it, until the morning. How’s that sound?”

To his delight, Regina smiles shyly, nodding her head as she snuggles into his chest. Robin takes her left hand and kisses his signet ring on her finger, reveling in how much he loves having her against him, having her as his _wife_ , then he drifts off, sated and so bloody happy that he’s not capable of thinking about anything outside of the night they have ahead of them.

 

 


	15. Chapter Thirteen - The Enthusiasm

 

 

Chapter Thirteen - The Enthusiasm

 

 

It’s a pleasurable heat between her thighs that she feels first, a tingling sensation that makes her arch her back just a little, in search of more. As she starts to rouse she feels a soft caress along her side, dipping down to smooth across her stomach and up to her breast, to cup and knead her sensitive flesh.

Regina pushes her chest forward in encouragement, not quite awake yet, and arches her lower back more, feeling the heat between her legs intensify, finally becoming aware of the slick slide of her husband’s cock as he thrusts slowly into her from behind. She tenses as she realizes what’s happening, realizes that she’s waking up with him buried inside of her, and she’s already halfway to orgasm when she finally remembers that she has hands and can do more than simply lay on her side and let him work her up.

Robin must feel her wake, because he starts to rock harder against her backside, getting a little deeper, and she’s so swollen from their previous activities that every stroke feels incredible, feels like he’s huge inside of her. He releases her breast and his large hand spans the width of her chest, allowing him to tease both of her nipples into stiff little peaks at the same time. The pads of his fingers are calloused as he plays with her, as he circles and flicks against the hardened tips, and without thinking she slips her hand between her legs to rub her clit, wanting to build up the arousal he had started before she even knew what he was doing.

“Oh yeah,” he rasps, his hot breath hitting her bare shoulder and causing gooseflesh to break across her back, “That’s right, darling, touch yourself - give your body the release you need.”

Regina bites her bottom lip, then huffs out a little breath of excitement, using his encouragement as permission to rub herself in earnest, her clit already hard and throbbing under her fingers and getting more stimulated by the second as he starts to tug and flick lightly over her nipples.

She rolls her hips, trying to get him deeper, enjoying the way he’s working her but wanting him to hit that spot a little further in, the one that makes her gasp and jerk her hips, the one that had her gushing her arousal on the sheets when he’d made her come earlier. Regina parts her thighs, holding up her top leg to give herself a little more room, and Robin pauses in his thrusts, pinches each of her nipples then slips out of her, his hands on her hips as he rolls her onto her belly.

“Try something for me, love,” he says softly, running his hands down her back. “Get up on your hands and knees while I fuck you.”

Regina hesitates, offended by the position he’s suggesting. “Like an animal?” she asks in disbelief, “Absolutely not.”

Robin presses kisses down her spine, all the way to the top of her ass, and she can feel his shaking breaths as he laughs softly. “Trust me, darling, you’ll enjoy it.”

Regina cranes her neck to look back at him, shocked that he’s pushing for this. “I may be your wife, but I’ll not have you rutting me on all fours like a common beast, Robin. It’s out of the question.”

Robin’s open palm connects with her bottom in a hard _smack!_ and Regina jerks beneath him, too shocked to do anything but gasp as the sting radiates across the round, right cheek of her ass.

“Alright,” he says, still laughing a little, and she can feel the heat of his body as he leans over her back. “Then I’ll fuck you with your face in the sheets - just don’t get cross with me when you can’t do anything but take it, because believe me darling, I intend to _rut you_ , whether you’re on all fours or not.”

She feels his hands between her thighs, shoving them apart, then - _Ohh!_ \- he slides his cock deep into her, his hands pressing down hard on her shoulders as he starts to work his hips fast.

He wasn’t kidding, she can’t do a damn thing but take and take him as he fucks into her, the rolling rhythm of his hips driving him deep, making her so wet, her limited range of motion making her feel like she’s been a bad girl and he’s punishing her, but his punishment just turns her on more. She moans under him, her hands pressing against the intricate wooden headboard to stop herself from shifting forward with the force of his thrusts, her back arched in acceptance as he starts to pound into her faster, _faster_.

“That’s right, take it,” he commands, fucking her _hard_ , “Take that cock, you disobedient little trollop.”

She moans with his scolding and feels the wetness seep from her with each stroke.

“You’re fucking drenched,” he comments, and - _Ahh!_ \- spanks her ass again, pushing her thighs wider, her knees bent and ass up for him. “Let’s see just how wet I can make you without letting you come, hmm? Shall we see how long you last before you _beg_ me to fuck you on all fours?”

Robin leans back behind her and he’s got both hands roughly grasping each of her ass cheeks, using her thick, rounded muscles to rock her against him, and she can’t get her arms under her - he’s jostling her too much and his grip is harsh, pushing her hips into the bed then pulling them up as he pistons _fast-fast-fast-fast._ He’s so deep - _goddd_ \- he’s so deep she’s not even sure if she wants to squirm away or get him closer. He’s stoking this hot fire inside of her, every thrust of his hips driving his cock right where she needs him, right - _oh jesus_ \- right _there_ , and she can feel the flutters inside of her starting, can feel the hot rush of her orgasm start to take over her body, building, building, building, when suddenly, he - _what the hell?_ \- he stops.

“What are you doing?!” she whines, “No, don’t stop, _please_ don’t stop.”

To her dismay, Robin pulls out entirely and releases his grip on her. He flops over on his back beside her, and when she turns to glare at him, he grins and says, “Sorry love, but I’m only willing to make you come if you’re on all fours for me.”

Regina’s eyes widen in astonishment, then narrow in anger. “You can’t be serious,” she grumbles, rolling onto her side to face him.

“Of course I am,” he shrugs, “If you won’t trust me with this, what point is there in continuing?”

Regina opens her mouth to argue, then snaps it shut. She doesn’t quite know what to say to that - she _does_ trust him, it’s just, well, she’s certain that no respectable woman would ever allow a man to take her that way. And Regina is a proper, respectable woman. She has standards.

She slips under the covers, her body cooling quickly without him working her up, her inner thighs sticky and wet, and she glares at him as she tugs the blankets up to her chin. “And here I thought you’d be a gentleman on our first night together,” she complains.

At her words, a look of realization, followed by complete despair crosses Robin’s features, and he brings his hands up to rub roughly over his eyes as he mutters, _“Fuck.”_ Another moment passes, and he turns to her, reaches tentatively to smooth a few stray hairs out of her eyes as he says softly, “I’m sorry, Regina. I… I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just, _christ_ , you don’t act like this is your first time and I forgot, _shit_ , I completely forgot. Please accept my apology, I got caught up in the moment and I feel terrible about it.”

“What do you mean I don’t _act_ like this is my first time?” She’s getting more offended by the second.

Robin cringes. “Well, it’s just, you’re so, er, you just seem to enjoy it so much and you’re so responsive. Other women I’ve had haven’t always been quite so… enthusiastic…”

Regina feels her face heat with embarrassment. Apparently, it’s not proper for her to enjoy this so much. Apparently, she’s supposed to put up some sort of objection, not rub her clit and spread her legs for him the second he touches her. _Oh god_.

She groans and turns her face into the pillows, hiding herself from him and clutching the blankets tightly, pulling them up to her nose to cover her face even more. Here she was, all offended because of the position he suggested, when she’s unknowingly been teasing him, encouraging his behavior, practically begging for it like a common whore. No wonder he wanted to do it that way. She’s mortified.

Robin calls her name softly but she’s too humiliated to look at him. She fists her hands in the blankets and stubbornly keeps her face pressed into the pillow - she’d rather suffocate than see whatever look he’s giving her right now. Regina feels him slide beneath the blankets but she still doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge him.

“There, now,” Robin soothes, his hand on the back of her head, stroking softly. “My darling, I didn’t mean to upset you. Enthusiasm is nothing to be embarrassed of - in fact, you’ve got me nearly in a constant state of _enthusiasm_ for you.” She hears him laugh quietly as his hand drops to rub between her shoulders. The bed dips as he shifts closer to her, and she almost wants to scoot away, but his hand is on her bare back and his touch actually does make her feel better, so she stays, still face-down in her pillow.

“Regina, love,” he says in her ear, and she fights the shiver that comes from his deep, rumbling baritone. “I don’t think I’ll survive another minute without seeing those gorgeous eyes of yours. Come now, allow me to gaze upon your beautiful face before I die with wanting.”

He’s snuggled right up against her side, his whole body pressed against her as he starts to brush his fingers through her long black hair, smoothing the thick strands away from him, lightly pushing to get her to tilt her face to his. When she finally acquiesces, hesitantly opening her eyes, he immediately kisses her, and her breath catches in surprise.

Robin slips his tongue into her mouth, and he tugs her closer, pulling her onto her side, bringing her naked front into contact with his. He’s hard (or still hard, more likely), and his hot length nudges at her belly as he drags her even closer, sucking her bottom lip and running his tongue against the roof of her mouth, then nipping her top lip. She feels his hand stroke down her arm to take hers, and he pulls her hand between them, wrapping her fingers around his cock as he breaks the kiss and says, “See? I’ve so much enthusiasm for you I can’t be anything but rigid in your presence. You’ve broken me.” He grins like an idiot, and it finally breaks the tension as she laughs and drops her forehead to his.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, “There’s that smile I think about every time I close my eyes.”

Regina pulls her face back so she can see him more clearly. “Do you?” she asks quietly.

Robin matches her sincerity, and asks, “Do I what, darling?”

“Do you think about me when you close your eyes?”

Robin gives her a look now like _she’s_ the daft one and states plainly, “Of course I do. Have you _seen_ you? My god woman, the reality of you is no match for anything my imagination could conjure.”

She blushes again, but this time she welcomes it, bites her bottom lip as she compliments, “You’re very handsome, you know.” It feels awkward coming from her lips, but she wants him to know she’s not immune to him either.

“Is that right?” he teases, thrusting lightly into her hand, which is still wrapped around his length. “You’re not just saying that because you’re my wife and you’re stuck with me?” Robin smirks and plays with her breast, tugging on her nipple until it stiffens for him.

Regina _Mmm’s_ from the attention on her chest, pumping his length slowly as she jokes, “Oh, I’m definitely saying it because I’m your wife.”

Robin makes a face in mock offense, pinches her nipple roughly then slips his hand between her thighs. She’s wet for him, always seems to be wet for him, and she shudders out a hot breath as he rubs her clit. “Well, being that we’re confessing things due to our newfound relationship, as your husband I feel I must inform you that I’m starving.” Regina furrows her brows in confusion, but he charges on. “That’s right, I can’t go another second without eating _something_ ,” he slides one finger to her entrance, then slips it up inside of her, “And being that I’ve a hot meal right here,” he crooks his finger inside of her, “I’m afraid you’re first on the menu, darling.”

He works his finger in and out of her slowly, and she lets go of his stiff length to run her hand across his chest. She wants more, needs more, definitely wants his mouth, but she’s self-conscious now in spite of his comforting words from earlier.

“Roll onto your stomach,” he says quietly, then kisses her again.

She does as he asks, then he slides a pillow beneath her hips, shifts the covers back, and the next thing she feels is his hot breath against her sex. When he makes contact, she moans.

 _Oh jesus,_ he’s running his tongue through her folds from behind, and Regina can’t bear to think about what he must see in the low lamplight, his face so close to her… _parts_. Robin presses against her thighs, encouraging to bend her knees, pushing her ass up in the air as he licks at her, the tip of his tongue flurrying across her clit before dipping inside of her, and the hot, wet stimulation feels so good that she arches up, bending her knees further to raise her ass higher in an attempt to give him more room. Robin brings his hands into the mix, stroking her inner thighs, then coating two fingers with her slick heat before he slides them into her, pressing toward the bed as he thrusts them slowly in and out of her.

“I’ll never get over how wet you get for me with just a few touches,” Robin says, working those two fingers inside of her, his other hand stroking over the curve of her round ass. “You’re so tight, but when you get worked up, _fuck_ , you get even tighter - wish I could stay buried inside of you for days.” He slips his fingers out to rub her clit for a few seconds, then slides back in deep. “Would you like that? Would you let me fuck you continually, stay deep inside of you even when you sleep, when you eat, when you bathe? _God_ , I’d love to try it.”

He works his fingers steadily within her, and he’s right - she does get incredibly wet for him. Regina can feel the moisture spreading with each thrust of his fingers, can hear the sloppy sounds as he - _oooh -_ adds a third finger and alternates between fast and slow strokes. He’s running his mouth over her ass now, nipping and licking at her, and she’s feeling uncertainty creep up again at his unfamiliar actions. She had no idea there were so many variations to being with a man, and she’s infinitely grateful now to be married to Robin and not Leopold.

Robin strokes his soaked fingers between her ass cheeks, and Regina jerks under him, completely unprepared for the touch. “Easy, love,” he says softly, slipping his fingers back inside of her and thrusting them quickly, pressing against her front wall, pushing on that spot that shoots pleasure through her. “ _Christ_ , I want to touch you here,” he tells her, skating the fingers of his other hand down her cleft this time, “Will you let me?”

Her first instinct is to tell him no. If she’s not going to let him have her on all fours, she certainly shouldn’t let him touch her _there_ , but his fingers inside of her are pushing her arousal sky-high as he curls them forward and starts brushing them fast against her g-spot, and she finds she’s much more amenable to letting him do whatever he wants when she’s so ridiculously turned on, so she nods her head and tries not to think about it.

She succeeds in blocking out her decision until she feels the stroke of his thick fingers from her back all the way through her cleft to meet his other hand. Robin spreads her cheeks and groans, the fingers inside of her going still for a moment, so that she starts to rock her hips in an attempt at keeping her arousal spiked.

“Oh, good girl,” he rasps, letting her take control. “Fuck yourself, that’s it.”

She’s feeling good, so aroused, her adrenaline inching upward, the hot burn in her core starting to spread, her clit untouched and throbbing with need. There is warm wetness at her rear entrance, and the swirl of heat, and - _oh god, oh good lord_ \- she realizes he’s pressing his tongue against her and teasing her there as he resumes thrusting his fingers fast inside of her.

Regina releases a needy, throaty moan as he licks at her rear entrance and fucks her with his fingers. Everything is so stimulated, she can’t think anymore, she _doesn’t want_ to think anymore, so she doesn’t - she just lives in the feel of him making her feel so alive, so hot, and so, so aroused.

She’s rocking her hips for him when he surprises her and sinks his teeth into the thick flesh of her ass cheek, causing her to jump, moaning and twisting her fingers into the pillow below her head. He pulls his fingers from her but before she can complain he’s shoving his thick cock in, and she gasps loudly, arching for him and shoving her body back to bury him deep. Robin’s hands slide over her ass as he groans, then he smooths them up her back, wrapping around to fill his palms with her breasts. She _Mmms_ and _Ohhs_ for him as he squeezes them, his thumbs flicking across her nipples as he starts to thrust into her, then he’s pulling her upright so she’s kneeling with her back to his chest, her knees spread and breasts in his hands as he starts to move.

As Robin finds a rhythm behind her, he uses the spring of the mattress to help her move against him, his generous length keeping him inside of her, the position pushing his cock against her g-spot with every single thrust. Regina drops her head back on his shoulder, breathing hard, her chest flush with arousal, nipples peaked, her clit _finally_ finding some relief as Robin drops one hand to press two fingers firmly against the aching bud and starts to rub.

It’s mere seconds of this, of him bouncing her on his cock, swirling his fingers on her clit while he pinches and twists her nipple, before she shudders apart, her orgasm rushing through her like a tidal wave. Regina arches hard, her clit _throb-throb-throbbing_ , hot pleasure shimmering through her core, wetness seeping from her as he keeps thrusting. Her inner muscles spasm and contract on him, the fullness of him inside of her a satisfying intrusion that she greedily wants more of, so much so that when he suddenly shoves her forward onto her hands - effectively putting her into the position she specifically resisted - she doesn’t even think to protest.

It’s about two seconds before she realizes that being _rutted like an animal_ is not necessarily a bad thing. Robin hammers into her like this, his hands on her hips as he slams against her backside, thrusting so fast that she can’t do anything but take him, the aftershocks of her orgasm starting to intensify instead of diminish. Her breasts sway and shake as he pounds into her, the tips hard and sensitive, her head bowed, her fingers digging into the sheets as she braces against him.

Robin’s fingers are harsh on her hips, but she can’t care, not when he’s driving so deep, not when she feels the sharp heat building in her core, her arms shaking, her entire body lighting up with pleasure, spiralling closer and closer to the edge once again.

“Didn’t take much to break you, love,” he pants, “Knew you’d want it like this, knew you’d be a good girl and let me give you what you need.”

Regina grumbles, “Oh god, shut up,” then groans loudly through gritted teeth as Robin drives deep, _deep_.

“Shall I fill your mouth with my release to teach you about talking back when I’m about to make you come, darling?” he threatens, one hand reaching around to rub her clit rapidly, her hips bucking against him as he stimulates her over-sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Mm, I think I will,” he muses, thrusting deep - _oh god, oh, oh god_ \- “Think I’ll let you come on me, then I’ll have you suck me off, so you can finally taste yourself before I spill on your tongue.”

She can’t catch her breath - _jesus_ \- she’s so close, but she hears his words and pushes the rush of her orgasm down, trying desperately to stop it as she whines, “No, Robin, _nooo_ ,” not wanting him in her mouth, not wanting to taste herself, it’s too vulgar, she can’t, _she can’t_.

“You’ll love it,” he argues, thrusting deep and staying deep, working her clit at a punishing pace, “Now give me your creamy release and let me show you.”

Regina sobs beneath him, fighting it, fighting her orgasm with everything she has, biting her lip hard and trying to jerk her hips away, but Robin is too strong and he has the upper hand in this position - there is no escape. Her clit is throbbing hard, her insides clenching and releasing, slick liquid heat running from her, but she’s not coming yet - not quite yet - she still has control - she won’t - _she won’t_ \- she, she, _ohh god!_

The intensity with which she comes is nothing short of _shattering_. Her legs quake as she loses control, her inner muscles contracting again and again on him as he continues to assault her clit, so sensitive - _jesus_ \- so sensitive. She tries to move away but his fingers chase her, making her twitch, making her clench on him again, wetness dripping from her when he pulls out suddenly, and she drops her head onto her hands, which are fisted in the sheets, as pleasurable tremors wrack her body, flooding her with endorphins and draining her of any sense of awareness as the world fades away. For a moment, all Regina knows is the hard pulse between her thighs and the hot, sated ache in her core as her body rides out the pleasure, then slowly, _slowly_ descends, the world rematerializing around her as she stretches forward and collapses on her stomach, her body drained and her head dazed.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hears from far away, and Regina shifts to her side, her eyes closed, already on her way to the dream realm when she feels Robin’s fingers stroke her face. He slips two fingers into her mouth, parting her teeth, then she feels the hot, salty slide of something else, and she’s too tired to open her eyes, so she just gives in, relaxes her jaw and opens further for him.

“Suck,” Robin commands, his voice gravelly and low, and she’s in no shape to argue anymore, so she does, she keeps her eyes closed and she sucks, slides her tongue along the hot, smooth skin that’s sliding in and out of her mouth as she tightens her lips and holds the suction. “That’s it,” he moans, and she continues, swirling and flicking her tongue as she fights sleep, licking him and tasting the salty tang that coats him. “Good girl,” he grits out, his hot skin sliding faster in and out of her mouth, and she tastes a little bit of something bitter before he says, “Ohhh fuck, darling, yeah, yeah.” His words are followed by a gush of thick fluid, and she pauses until she feels his fingers wrap firmly around her jaw as he thrusts between her lips and commands, “Swallow it, ohhh, swallow now, _fuck_.”

Regina swallows what’s in her mouth and he pulls out, a soft sigh falling from her lips as she breathes in and out deeply. She’s so tired, so relaxed, and the last thing she thinks as she feels his hot body pressing against hers is that once again he was right, and she’s going to have to find a way to start winning some of these disagreements before he completely turns her into a deviant.

 

 


	16. Chapter Fourteen - The Lessons

 

 

Chapter Fourteen - The Lessons

 

 

“Will you do magic for me?” Robin asks tentatively, playing with her fingertips as she rests against his chest, the hot water and mineral salts soothing their tender flesh as they soak in the large tub.

Regina makes a low hum in her throat, and he watches in awe as a tiny fireball forms in her palm, the orange flames flickering brightly in the dim light of the little room.

“Fascinating,” he whispers, truly impressed. Robin moves his face closer to hers, resting his chin on her shoulder as he stares at the fire. It’s beautiful, this magic she wields so effortlessly, and he finds his hand drifting nearer to the flame before he pulls it back quickly with a sharp hiss of pain. She might be able to hold it in her hand without harm, but the flames are real against his skin - it is no trick, and he’s just burned three fingers to prove it.

Regina blows the fire out and takes his hand in hers. It’s not a terrible burn, only second degree, but it definitely is going to blister and it smarts painfully. “Didn’t your mother teach you never to play with fire, dear?” she chides, and he can hear the smirk in her voice as her perfect, smooth fingers drift over his burned ones, a little swirl of purple smoke materializing around them and brushing against his skin in a soothing tingle. When the smoke clears his fingers are healed, no trace of the burn left whatsoever.

“Brilliant,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then dotting several more along the top of her shoulder. “My darling, you’re incredible,” he praises, raising his healed hand to her chin and turning her face to his. Robin presses his lips to hers softly, chuffed to bits when she deepens the kiss on her own, her tongue seeking entrance to his mouth as her hand reaches up to wrap around the back of his head.

They kiss deeply, tongues sliding against each other, his hands sweeping over her wet body, tracing her curves and drifting up to play with her breasts, not wanting anything more than to feel her under his palms. Her long hair is wet and freshly washed, hanging heavily over her shoulder, the wet strands curling and waving almost wildly from the heat and moisture around them. Robin can’t help but to reach up and play with it, even wet and unruly her hair is beautiful, the blue-black color a shade he’s never seen on any other woman.

“And actually,” he smiles, tugging lightly on the ends of her hair, “My mother never did teach me about the risk of getting burned.”

“Oh?” she asks quietly, “Will you tell me about her?”

Robin realizes his mistake immediately. He hadn’t meant to open up a conversation about his upbringing, but he also can’t think of a way to get out of her question without offending her. It’s a reasonable request, and if he denies her, he is certain she’ll be upset.

“She was young when she married my father,” he tells her. “Barely of age when she had Leopold, and I suppose that turned out in her favor, since she was still able to produce me when called upon for it.” He grimaces, annoyed by his own story. “She was kind to me, loved me, I think, as much as she could, considering the circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” Regina probes, weaving her fingers with his.

“I had very little purpose other than as a contingency plan. She couldn’t devote anything to me - not her time, her energy, not even much of her love. Everything went to Leopold without question.” Robin hates how he sounds, like a jealous little brother griping about not being the favorite. But the circumstances were exactly as he describes. There was no time spent on Robin’s upbringing, simply because Robin was not important enough to be bothered with - it wasn’t even personal. “What little I remember of her is that she was quiet and patient. But she died when I was still a lad, and I don’t really know much about her other than that.”

“The old woman who stayed behind after our wedding - is she your grandmother?” Regina asks.

Robin smiles, rubbing his fingers along hers. “Not by blood,” he admits, “But she’s as close to a grandmother as I’ve ever had, and everyone calls her Granny anyway.”

“How do you know her, if she’s not related?”

It’s another innocent question that Robin absolutely doesn’t want to answer. He hasn’t told her about Marian, hasn’t mentioned the terrible things that happened, hasn’t told her of his incomprehensible rage and the severe consequences that followed. He hasn’t told her, and he has zero intentions of telling her.

“She owns the tavern in the village.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. “I spent a lot of time there when I was younger, and she cared for me on many occasions when I wasn’t willing, or sometimes able, to return to the castle.”

Thoughts of Marian suddenly infiltrate his thoughts. Of laughing and smiling and joking with her. Of kissing her, of begging her to court him, of touching and tasting and loving her. The old anger flares within him, the painful memories surfacing before he can stop them, and he rises quickly from the tub, dries off and heads back into his bedroom before he says something he regrets.

Regina cannot know about Marian. She cannot find out about his past. It’s one thing to kill a person so he can keep the throne (Regina is a royal and he knows she understands this), but if she knew what other sins he’s committed - sins he feels no remorse for - he’s certain she’ll disappear in a swirl of that pretty purple smoke, and he’ll be left to dispose of Snow White on his own. To be fair, Robin really, _really_ likes Regina, he loves spending time with her - he certainly enjoys fucking her - he wants her to stay, and not just to help him get rid of his niece so he can finally have his revenge. Regina makes him think of the future instead of the past, and once Snow is disposed of, if by some insane stroke of luck Regina is still around, perhaps Robin can finally move on with his life, perhaps maybe, just maybe, he won’t feel quite so _empty_ all the time.

The problem with Snow is that while those closest to her know what an awful, spoiled brat she is, the citizens of Misthaven know her only as the perfect little rosy-cheeked princess whom they love and cherish. She’s always been paraded around as god’s gift to the world, and the commoners love her simply because they don’t know any better. There are those who are wise to the crown’s treachery - like Granny, John, Will, and some of his other mates - but they are a tiny minority in the kingdom and are in no position to speak out against the monarchy, not if they’d like to keep their tongues in their mouths, that is.

So Robin needs a way to get rid of Snow, a way to make it look like a tragic accident or something similar, so that when she dies he doesn’t draw suspicion for it. He could quite easily slit her throat in the middle of the night, and _god_ , he would really love to do that, but it would only serve to put his newfound power in jeopardy. He’s got to secure the crown before he can go around murdering people for the hell of it, not that there’s anyone left he cares to murder besides Snow White.

Robin pours himself a glass of red wine and drinks it quickly, trying to dull his nerves, trying to knock back those pesky emotions that always seem to get the better of him. It’s nearly morning, and tomorrow is an important day - a day in which he will plot the demise of his niece, then set plans in motion that will change the course of his entire life, for better or worse, he’s not sure.

Robin has wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked it in, and when he takes a large sip from his second glass of wine he looks down, noticing for the first time in a long time, the rampant lion inside of a black shield tattooed on his forearm. He runs his fingers over the dark ink, tracing the form of the lion, remembering the night Granny tapped it into his skin. She was determined to see him live through his grief, too stubborn to let him die, and one night as malnourishment and depression drove him to delirium, she pinned his arm down and set to work on him. The stinging, persistent pain pulled his mind back from insanity, each puncture of the inked rake giving him something to focus on other than his broken heart. As she worked, Granny sternly reminded him that even though Marian had been stolen from them, there was nothing stopping _Robin_ from conquering those who had taken her, from ripping the rug out from under the monarchy and raining death and destruction like a roaring lion taking vengeance upon his enemies.

The day after he received his tattoo, Robin got out of bed for the first time in weeks, and every day since then, he has felt the lion within, giving him the strength to pursue his new purpose. He vowed to destroy the happiness of everyone involved in the death of Marian, and since then he has brought pain and misery to every single person who had an ounce of involvement in her demise. Now that Leopold is dead, the only person left to be punished is Snow.

The sound of Regina’s footsteps padding into the room draws his attention back to her, back to his wedding night, and there’s an ache in his chest now as he looks at her, all gorgeous in the lamplight. Her dark eyes are wary of him as she enters the room, her olive skin shiny and still damp from their bath, the long length of her bare legs drawing his eye as she nears him.

She reaches out her hand and he gives her his glass of wine, from which she takes a long, slow sip. They’re silent as they share the alcohol, and Robin isn’t sure what to say to her. He made the mistake of letting his guard down when he met her, too taken by her beauty, wit, and undeniable charm to stay away during a time when it truly didn’t matter what he did with his life. But things are different now, he’s the Prince Regent, and they can’t go back to their time in the tower, to the friendship they started before he was important, and Robin hates himself for that. He was living a bit of a fantasy, allowing himself to believe that he might be able to have something with Regina, that he might actually have a happy future, but he remembers now that there is nothing that can remove the black streaks that marr his heart. He’s a fool to try, a fool to think for even one second that he deserves another chance at happiness, at love. As Robin looks at Regina, he realizes that this is fate, slapping him back to reality once again, taunting him with a beautiful, intelligent woman that he can’t have, _specifically_ because of who he is.

Robin drains the goblet and doesn’t bother to refill it. Instead, he pulls Regina to him, his hands going to her towel and loosening it, tugging until it drops from her. She shivers, chilled in the cool, early morning air, but he’s a selfish man and he needs to look at her, needs to memorize every curve, every freckle, every perfect inch of her before the sun rises and he loses the gift of her body, the gift that she has only promised to him for the duration of their wedding night.

She’s going to leave him once Snow is dead. He can see it in her eyes, can see the way her loyalty to him flickers like a candle, threatening to blow out with the slightest breeze. She’s correct to be cautious of him - she’s so smart, so intuitive, her instincts are more than adequate and Robin is certain that she has him figured out, that she knows there is a monster lurking beneath the surface, just waiting to bear its teeth and strike the vengeance it has long been denied.

And when that happens, when the lion appears, Regina is going to bolt. Robin won’t stop her, and he certainly won’t stop himself, he won’t even try - he _wants_ revenge and he’s going to have it, even if it costs him the woman in front of him. Even if it costs him his own life.

Robin circles her, dragging his eyes up and down her body, drinking her in. Regina is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She easily outshines even Marian, who was beautiful in her own way, but not quite like this. Regina is radiant, golden energy, her skin smooth and naturally golden, her eyes a dark chocolate color in candlelight but caramel in the sunlight. He obsesses over her thick hair, over the fine arch of her brows, the sharp cut of her jaw, the linear bridge of her nose and the perfect, straight, brilliant white of her teeth. Her smile, though rare, makes his heart flip, her long, finely boned fingers are feminine and smooth, her stomach toned but soft. The curve of her thigh is so enticing he literally aches to press his mouth against every inch of her legs, yearns to bathe her body with his lips and teeth and tongue.

It’s unfair that she looks like this _and_ possesses the intelligence of a scholar, matched by a quick wit and dry humor that has him grinning like an idiot for days about some of the things she says. He knows without a doubt that Regina would be the woman he wants, were he a normal man. She’s the woman he would throw down his crown, his kingdom, his life for, were he someone who was deserving of her.

But he does _not_ deserve her, and he never will. To fight for her at this point in his life would only be cruel.

Which is why Robin intends to take full advantage of the few hours he has left with her, so whether he grows old and gray or dies within a fortnight, he’ll have something to smile about, something pleasant to think of when the lion within is finally sated and his pathetic life no longer has a purpose.

“I could look at you for every second of the rest of my life, and never grow tired of the sight,” he tells her honestly.

“You don’t have to charm me, Robin,” she smirks, “I’m already your wife.”

“It’s not charm, it’s a fact,” he argues, moving behind her to trail his fingers down the length of her spine, over the curve of her arse and along the bottom of her cheek. Robin steps into her, sweeping her hair over her shoulder so he can press a kiss to the crux of her neck. “And it’s also a fact that I promised to finish your lesson, while you show me how you touch yourself.”

“I never agreed to that,” she says, turning her head to look at him.

“No,” Robin agrees, “But you’re going to do it anyway.” He can’t _not_ smirk as he moves in front of her, skating his fingers across her collarbones, down her chest to circle, but not touch, her nipples, then dipping further to drift across her stomach to finally wrap around her hips. Regina licks her lips as he tugs his towel off and takes his semi-hard cock in one hand, stroking smoothly to bring himself fully erect, catching her eyes and teasing, “I bet if I slide my fingers between your thighs, I’ll find you’re already wet again, aren’t you?”

She chews her lip for a moment but doesn’t make a move to touch herself, so he does it instead, slips two fingers between her legs and - _oh fuck_ \- finds her wet for him. He wants to watch her come, but he really, _really_ wants to watch her make _herself_ come, so he picks her up by her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist as he takes her back to bed and moves so he’s sitting against the headboard with her in his lap, her legs spread wide, bracketing his.

Robin starts to play with himself, pumping lightly then cupping his balls, massaging and kneading for a moment before going back to stroking along his hard length.

Regina is watching him with rapt attention, her sharp eyes following each movement, and he can almost see the mental notes she’s taking, can see the way she’s committing certain movements to memory. He strokes his free hand up her calf, reminding her, “Show me, love, show me what you like.”

She doesn’t move though, and he can tell she’s warring with that adorable propriety she’s always spouting at him, but he knows now that filthy words work her up, so he goes with that and hopes for the best. “I can see you’re wet, darling,” he widens his legs, effectively spreading hers as well. “Your hot little cunt is dripping, I can see it running down - in a moment you’re going to start soaking the sheets, and you won’t even have touched yourself.” He stares at her sex as he says this, pumping his cock a little faster. “Wouldn’t it be better if you rubbed your clit, just a bit? If you stroked those soft fingers of yours up and down through your hot, swollen folds? If you slid one finger inside of yourself, imagining it’s mine?” Regina puffs out a breath, her lips forming an ‘O’, her cheeks flushed and one of her hands starting to glide lightly along her inner thigh.

“I know you touch yourself, darling,” he rasps, stroking himself with a bit more urgency. “I know that a wanton little tart like you needs to come all the time. Every day, probably, maybe even multiple times a day. Touch your pussy for me, touch yourself and tell me how good it feels. _Fuck_ , I know that you want to, go on and show me, love.”

Regina’s hand smooths up her thigh and she closes her eyes as she slides her fingers along her slit, licking her lips and sighing softly as she starts to rub up and down. She strokes through her slick folds several times before lingering at her clit, two fingers pressed against it as she starts to swirl over it.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he rasps, stroking his aching cock faster, faster. “Do you finger yourself too?” he asks, feeling just a touch desperate. “How many fingers do you give yourself, hmm? Two? Three?”

She slides her fingers over her clit quickly, then slips down and dips first one, then two fingers inside of herself. “Two,” she huffs, leaning back on her other hand, bending her knees and spreading her legs a bit further.

“Mmm, good girl,” he praises as she slides her fingers deeper, “Do you like to work your fingers fast, or slow and steady?” he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed with arousal, her lips parted and breaths coming quickly as she starts to work her fingers, and when she pants, “Fast,” Robin moans, fisting his cock and stimulating the head of it.

“Of course you do - you like it fast, and hard, and deep, just like when I fuck you, isn’t that right, darling?”

She moans, the sound low and sexy, her head thrown back and her back arched as she buries her fingers deep, and the way she thrusts her pelvis as she finger-fucks herself is too bloody hot for words.

“Christ,” he groans, smearing his precum around with two fingers, then leaning forward to swipe them across her lips.

At the touch, Regina automatically licks her lips, then her eyes fly open in outrage, and he grins at her as he says, “You’ve already swallowed a whole load tonight, darling, no use in being offended now, is there?”

Regina narrows her eyes at him but keeps her fingers moving, and he’s going to have to stop soon if he wants to fuck her properly. She’s gorgeous to begin with, but with her pretty little cunt on display for him and those high pitched breaths she’s taking, he’s quickly approaching the point of no return.

“I want to taste you when you come,” he tells her. “I want to suck on your hot, swollen clit, want to feel the rush of your slick need coating my tongue, want to lick you from your arse to your mound, want to bury my fingers in every hole and feel you come apart on me.”

Regina surprises him when she nods in response, so he adds, “But I’ll only do that for you, if you suck me off while I do it.”

Her brow furrows, fingers stalling as she looks to his cock, and he suddenly realizes she doesn’t know the position he’s referring to. He smirks and moves so he’s laying on his back.

“C’mere, love,” he commands, “Put your knees on each side of my shoulders so I can lick that hot little pussy for you.” Her eyes widen comically and it takes everything in him not to laugh at how sweet she is.

“It’ll be good,” he tries, “I’ll suck yours while you suck mine.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Regina wrinkles her nose and pulls her fingers from herself. “That’s… that’s… obscene. It’s preposterous.”

“Preposterous?” he laughs this time, leaning forward to grasp her jaw. “I’ll give you obscene, and maybe a bit unorthodox, but certainly not preposterous. I’m sure I needn’t remind you that we’ve both already had our mouths on one another - what difference does it make if we do it at the same time?”

She opens her mouth then snaps it shut again, so he switches tactics, trying to push her the rest of the way out of her comfort zone. “Darling, when we’re in this bed, you don’t have to hide from me. Let me give you what you crave, what you need.” He pauses, stroking his fingers down her cheek, then cupping her breast gently, swiping his thumb over her nipple to pebble it before he drops his hand to her sex and rubs her. “Now get over here and sit on my face.”

Regina blushes prettily, obviously still uncomfortable with what he’s tasked her with, but when he holds out his hand she takes it, and within seconds he’s got her kneeling over him as he instructs her to lean forward onto her hands so she can take his cock in her mouth.

Robin feels her breath brush over his sensitive skin, and he’s about to raise his mouth to her when she leans back up and grumbles, “Robin, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He lets his smile form because she can’t see his face, leans up and runs his tongue through her slit, pulling a shiver from her before he instructs, “Take me in your hand first, then slide my cock between your lips and suck. You can also use your tongue, but not your teeth, love. The tip is the most sensitive. That’s... really all you need to know - I’m not hard to please.” He grabs for a pillow and bunches it up under his head, then puts his hands on her lower back, rubbing up and down her spine and urging her to lean down again, until he feels her fingers wrap around his length.

Robin gives her a second to figure things out, to let her pump him in her fist until she gets comfortable handling him, and he’s rewarded for his patience when he feels her tongue lave across the sensitive head of his cock, feels her fingers stroke him a few times before she slips him into her mouth and starts to suck.

“ _That’s it_ ,” he groans, leaning up to lick the wetness seeping from her. “Mm, yeah, suck that cock. _Fuck yeah_.”

It takes her a moment but then Regina finds a rhythm, taking him in long strokes and pausing once in a while to circle her tongue over his tip, using her hand to make up what she can’t take down her throat. _Christ_ , he’s a lucky man - so incredibly, outrageously lucky.

Robin licks her with enthusiasm. He loves going down on a woman to begin with, but going down on Regina is like a guilty pleasure for him - she tastes amazing, looks amazing, sounds amazing - he could come from just eating her out, from thinking about her sweet clit pulsing under his tongue, from the way her wetness drips from her, from the flutter of her inner muscles when he dips his tongue in and fucks her with it.

Robin flattens his tongue against her clit and starts to rub it quickly - moaning against her when she grinds down on him, her mouth sliding further down his length in response, then dragging up slowly as she experimentally zig zags her tongue against him while she sucks - _jesus-fucking-christ_ \- repeating and repeating the movement as he thrusts his hips up to her.

He moves his hands to her arse and spreads her cheeks, grasping her firmly and holding her down on him, breathing through his nose, smelling her sweet scent as he sucks on her clit and flicks it with his tongue, feeling her wetness grow as she rocks down on him, not fighting at all, completely compliant now as she speeds up on his cock and moans, the vibration shimmering down his length and making his balls clench, pushing him closer to the edge, seeping precum onto her tongue as she bobs up and down on him.

She pulls up suddenly, just as he’s starting to approach the edge, and he releases her arse, lets his head drop back to the pillow in disappointment that is quickly replaced by excitement when she says, “Want to feel you inside of me, please, please?”

Robin slides out from under her and gets her on her back so fast she cries out in surprise, then she gives him one of those megawatt smiles he loves, her nose scrunching as she laughs beneath him and teases, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He crushes his mouth to hers, biting at her lips in desperation - he’s so hot for her, _christ_ , he’s on fire for her - as he rubs his cock through her folds, coating himself with her wetness before he starts to slide in, but she gasps and jerks her hips away, her hands pushing frantically at his hips as she squirms and says, “Stop, _stop._ ”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling out as his concern for her overwhelms him. He strokes his fingers through her hair and looks into her eyes as he directs, “Tell me, darling, what’s the matter?”

She clutches his hips tightly and shudders out a soft breath, then confesses, “I’m so sore. It hurts.”

And of course it does - she was a virgin when they’d started this and he’s been pounding the living hell out of her all night. One bath with mineral salts is not nearly enough to soothe the stretch and rawness of muscles that she’s never used.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “I’m so sorry, of course, that’s to be expected. We’ll stop. What can I do to make it better? Shall I fetch some ice?”

Regina looks at him like he’s being ridiculous, and he starts to prattle on like he does so often when he’s in her presence, sounding like a complete muppet as he continues, “I could call for more hot water and salts, or perhaps shea butter? Some pain medicine, perhaps, or a relaxant? I think I’ve got a bit of herb stashed away yet, I could roll you some in a bit of paper, I know you don’t typically smoke but I could -”

“Robin,” she mercifully cuts him off, “It’s okay, I’m alright.” She threads her fingers through his hair, stroking softly before she adds, “I just need you to go a little slower is all.” She smiles at him sympathetically and pulls his face to hers, leaning up to kiss him as he settles back down on her, relieved that she’s not in too much pain to continue.

A new idea comes to him and he rolls them so she’s on top, telling her, “This way you’ve got control, you can take me how you need to, how’s that?”

She makes that face at him again like he’s purposefully assaulting her decorum, and he can’t help but laugh as he reassures her, “Believe me darling, _this_ position is downright prudish compared to what we just did.”

Regina glares as if she’s just confirmed her suspicions, her dark eyes flashing at him for a moment, but then he reaches between her thighs to rub her clit, and she rocks her hips in response, her breath catching before she shifts forward to hover over him.

She takes him in hand without hesitation now, and she rubs his head around and around her entrance, teasing him - he’s not sure if it’s intended or not, the bloody minx - then she starts to slowly sink down on him. She takes him in a tiny bit, then lifts up, down and up, little by little, until his cock is soaked and she’s got him halfway in, then she finally drops her hips and takes him the rest of the way in one quick, slick, slide.

They both moan loudly at the feeling - she’s so swollen and hot inside, her legs shaking just a little as she shifts on him, keeping him deep as she rocks back and forth, then swivels - _christ_ \- on him instead of bouncing up and down. The way she takes him all the way in, the way her brow furrows and her pretty lips part as she explores the best way to move herself on him is nothing short of pure, mind-numbing bliss.

Robin raises his hands from her hips to palm her breasts, lifting the weight of them and squeezing, massaging her while she rocks her hips forward and back, forward and back. Regina leans over him, resting her hands on the meat of his pecs, shifting her hips and speeding up a bit, and she looks so bloody gorgeous he wishes he could capture the image of her like this so he can revisit it at a later date.

Regina rolls her hips against his, working his cock in her, and she gasps softly, does it again, and digs her fingernails into his chest. She’s so fucking hot he can hardly stand it - it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up into her, to not flip her on her back and fuck her right into the mattress. He might be more experienced than she is, but _god_ , he is only a man and he only has so much restraint. He releases her breasts so he can press his thumb to her clit, rubbing firm and smooth over the hardened bud as he twists her nipple, and her hips jerk reflexively over him. He keeps at her, teasing her tits with one hand, jumping back and forth between her hard, reddened peaks while keeping steady pressure on her clit, and Regina starts to make these hot little whimpers, starts raising herself up and sliding back down his cock, fucking him faster, _faster_ , _faster_ , until she’s positively bouncing on him.

Robin can’t help himself anymore, he loses restraint as he watches her breasts shake, watches the thick muscles of her thighs flex as she moves, and he starts thrusting up, seeking his own pleasure now. She starts talking, driving his arousal through the ceiling when she murmurs, “Oh god,” and “So good,” and on one, particularly hard thrust, “Yeah, like that, _mmm_ , just like that.”

It’s a series of hard and fast thrusts then, of them working in tandem to drive their arousal up, up, up, and Robin knows without a doubt that he’s going to come inside of her this time, knows he’s going to beat her to the finish and she won’t know to pull herself off of him. She’s too beautiful, she’s a fucking dream, and he’s close, so-bloody-close, there’s no way he can stop without it causing serious damage to his cock, which is so rigid inside of her that he _has_ to allow himself to get some relief or he’s pretty sure he’s going to die with sensation overload.

But the gods are merciful, and her nails bite into his chest when suddenly her hips jerk and those hard tremors start inside of her, clenching on his length as he grabs her hips and thrusts up fast-fast-fast, the muscles inside of her contracting rapidly all around his length, her slickness drenching him and making it sloppy, so much so that as he flurries his thumb over her clit and gives her long, deep thrusts, he accidentally slips out. It’s just in time, thank god, because he immediately spills all over his stomach, grabbing for himself with one hand to finish the job while he slides three fingers up into her to give her something to ride while she shudders through the rest of her own release.

Their heavy breaths fill the room as they calm, Regina’s hands still bracing on his chest, her head tipped forward, long dark hair hanging over one shoulder and her eyes closed as she collects herself. Robin feels an overwhelming wave of affection for her, and he sits up and kisses her - kisses her deeply - over and over, threading his hands in the thick, inky strands of her hair, pressing his tongue between her lips to stroke lovingly against hers. _Christ_ , he likes this woman, could _easily_ love this woman if he had the chance. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and he settles them back against the pillows, slipping out of her but keeping her in his lap, chest to chest as they kiss lazily, until she falls asleep with her face tucked into his neck.

Robin strokes his hands slowly up and down her back, fighting to stay awake, not wanting to miss one second of the time he has left with her. He pretends that she wants to be here with him, that they have a life together, that they spend their days laughing and kissing and learning each other, and that after a few years they make adorable, dark-haired children with deep dimples who snuggle with her and get rowdy with him. He fantasizes about the life he’d like, the life he might have if he was any other man than himself, and for a few hours he is content, he is _happy_ , just holding onto her and making up the fantasy of what can never be.

 

 


	17. Chapter Fifteen - The Interruptions

 

 

Chapter Fifteen - The Interruptions 

 

 

Over the course of the next week Regina barely sees Robin at all. Things are hectic around the castle, what with throwing the realm’s most lavish funeral for Leopold mixed with political agendas so complex she’s not even sure which side she would take, should she care to take one. Snow White is in rare form, already fighting Robin’s right to the Regency - at one point even arguing that her widely known birth year is incorrect, and she’s actually eighteen, not seventeen. Unfortunately for Snow, though, there are enough honest people still around to thwart most of her plans, much to the chagrin of the Princess.

When the day finally comes, the swearing in of Robin as regent is actually quite quick. Regina stands just off to the side with several other people - disgruntled loyalists to Snow White mixed in with those who favor Robin - while she tries to ignore the stares and whispers around her that clearly indicate the general displeasure surrounding her new marriage. Everyone is still dressed in black - a nod to Leopold and the month-long custom of displaying their grief - and it adds a strange, gothic feeling to the entire event.

Once the chancellor is through with bestowing responsibilities on Robin, they move to the great hall for a formal dinner and a chance for the nobility and other people of importance to pay their respects to the man who will be in power for the next year. Robin holds her hand tightly the entire time, making a bit of a show of their union when he himself pulls out her chair at the head table, kissing her lips softly before he takes his own seat. It’s the ultimate display of gentlemanly ownership, and Regina wonders if he’s doing it because he actually likes doing nice things for her, or if he’s just trying to mark his territory. Perhaps it’s both.

Snow White is at the table, a petulant pout plastered across her face as she pushes her food around her plate like a toddler, whining to her ladies-in-waiting about how she doesn’t like the mutton they’re having.

“We’ll have venison at _my_ coronation. It’s a much more appetizing meat,” she tells the girl next to her - Anastasia, Regina thinks her name is. “Indeed, venison is much more fitting for celebrating someone who actually deserves to wear the crown.”

Regina grits her teeth and takes another bite of her food, which is, contrary to Snow’s griping, actually quite good.

“I just hate wearing black, it’s so drab,” she complains, “I don’t have a single thing in my wardrobe that is this color, you know, I had to have these awful gowns brought over all the way from The Moors.” Snow laughs, keeping her voice good and loud as she adds, “Only a dragon could have such poor taste in clothing, or perhaps a witch.”

Regina straightens her back, the purposeful insult of herself _and_ her only friend causing her to set down her goblet of wine just a touch harder than necessary.

“It won’t be long, before I’m Queen though, and the first thing I’m going to do is outlaw this ridiculous tradition of mourning in black,” the brat continues. “Just you wait and see, ladies, I already have several things in motion. I don’t need to tell you how important it is that I take the throne before someone ruins all the hard work my father did.”

That’s it, that’s the last straw, Regina can’t help herself. “Mmm, yes, we must keep in place the ‘hard work’ that has taxes higher and revenues lower than they’ve ever been,” she drawls, tone thick with sarcasm as she locks eyes with Snow, daring the girl to challenge her.

Next to her, Robin guffaws and Snow blushes bright red, looking like she’s going to retort, but when Regina raises her eyebrows in expectation, the girl’s blush deepens and she turns back to her plate without a word. All is relatively quiet at the head table after that, mostly just Robin making small talk with a few of his advisors that are sitting with them, and as soon as the meal ends, Snow departs with her followers in tow.

That’s when Cora corners her.

Regina should have been paying more attention, should have been watching the movements of her mother and been sure she could make an escape before the woman caught her on her own, but she was too busy trying not to laugh as Snow awkwardly tried not to turn her back on Regina as she fled the room, as if frightened that Regina might curse her on her way out. Which of course, Regina has no interest in doing.

Not when there are so many witnesses.

Cora’s grip is firm around Regina’s forearm as she drags her from the great hall and out into one of the side corridors, her fingernails digging in sharply as she immediately starts in on her only daughter.

“I’ll never understand how you could be so foolish,” Cora snaps, pushing at Regina until she has her backed up against the stone wall. “Marrying the Prince Regent in place of the King? My god, I swear you not only inherited your father’s dimwitted intelligence but his inability to make sensible decisions as well. What do you have to say for yourself, you idiot girl?”

Regina holds her mother’s stern gaze, knowing better than to look away - she’s felt the sharp sting on her cheek too many times to accidentally break eye contact when she’s being asked a direct question by the Queen of the Enchanted Forest. “The King of Misthaven is dead. If something happens to Snow White, Robin is next in line.”

Cora looks deep into her eyes for a moment, sizing her up before she snaps, “Oh, it’s _Robin_ now is it? Leave it to you, Regina, to throw yourself at the most despicable royal still available because you’re suddenly out of options. Lord knows I tried to help you find a suitable King long ago - you have only yourself to blame for this.” Cora raises her other hand to press against her forehead, as if staving off a headache. “And as for dispatching of Snow White, we both know that you don’t have the stomach for something like that. You’ve always been weak when it comes to making the hard choices.”

A tense moment passes and Regina can feel her skin splitting beneath her mother’s sharp fingernails as her grip tightens. “I’ve already sent my servants to pack your things. We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

Regina tries to pull her arm from Cora’s grasp but feels the warmth of a magical flame between her mother’s hand and her arm, the heat intensifying more and more as she struggles. “I’m not going anywhere, Mother,” she tries to reason, ceasing from trying to pull away as her skin starts to burn. Regina raises her chin as her eyes water, determined not to flinch from the pain. “I’m married to Robin now, and soon I will be Queen of this Kingdom, whether you approve or not.”

Cora’s magic flares against Regina’s skin and she literally hears it sizzle beneath her mother’s fingers. She grits her teeth as a hard shiver of pain rushes up her arm to her spine, creeping into her hairline while she fights the urge scream.

“You may have spread your legs for that worthless excuse of a regent, but make no mistake,” Cora hisses, stepping in close to get right up in Regina’s face, “I’m the one who gave you your title, your magic - I handed you the world on a silver platter - everything you have is because of me.” Her mother pauses, face screwed up in annoyance and disgust before she fixes her features back into perfect stoicism. “And therefore, my beautiful daughter,” Cora reaches up with her free hand and tucks a few unruly strands of Regina’s hair behind her ear. “You belong to me.”

Regina holds her mother’s stare, torn between hatred and fear of the woman. There is movement at the end of the hallway, and Regina immediately recognizes Robin’s gait as he turns and starts walking toward them, the hallway too dim for her to make out his face.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Regina challenges, pulling her magic up to the surface, the purple energy sparking like electricity across her skin, forcing her mother to drop her burned arm and step back, clearly angry. Regina looks past Cora, purposefully indicating the approach of her husband as she states plainly, “Now I belong to Robin.”

“Everything alright?” Robin calls, still twenty feet away but closing the distance quickly.

“Fine,” Regina tells him, looking right at Cora. “My mother was just telling me that she has to leave early. She has to leave _tonight_ , actually.”

Cora scowls at Regina as Robin politely offers up his household staff to hasten the travel preparations for the King and Queen of the Enchanted Forest, and Cora stalks off shortly after that, staring daggers at Regina and warning her that _this discussion is far from over_.

When they are finally alone, Robin steps close to her, crowding her space as he ducks his head to catch her eyes and asks again, “Everything alright?”

Her heart rate jumps in response to his nearness, his familiar forest smell invading her nose, her hands itching to feel his hot skin beneath her palms. Regina gives him a low, _Mmm_ , in confirmation, then turns her attention to the burn on her arm. It’s a good one, already blistering and bright red along each fine line where her mother’s fingers had lain against her skin, and she turns her arm slowly, inspecting the wound carefully so she can decide if she needs a minor or major healing spell to reverse the damage.

“Bloody hell,” Robin gasps, reaching for her arm then pulling it up sharply so he can look at it. “She did this to you?” he growls, and Regina can feel his anger rising, rising, until it’s practically pouring off of him as he loses his temper. “How dare she touch you? How _dare_ she?! I’ll have her fucking head for this.” His teeth are bared, his eyes wild and he turns as if he’s about to go after Cora, so Regina grabs for him quickly, catching the back of his doublet and tugging him back before he gets any momentum.

“Wait,” she calls softly, and Robin turns back to her, once again stepping in close, his eyes fixated on her burn. She feels a hot rush in her core with his attention so focused on her, and she presses her thighs together, trying to relieve the tingle of arousal that’s suddenly started. “Don’t worry about her, this is nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Regina hates admitting her mother’s abuse, but she doesn’t know what to say to make Robin stay with her. If he goes after Cora he’ll be dead within seconds - no one, except for perhaps Maleficent, is a match for the power of her mother.

Robin grits his teeth in apparent frustration, then mutters angrily, “This shouldn’t have happened, I promised I’d protect you,” and Regina raises her hand to stroke his cheek soothingly.

Robin covers her hand with his as he turns his head and presses a kiss to her palm, the sweetness of his actions causing her stomach to drop out. Regina fights the wave of emotion that comes over her, fights the warm affection that pushes to the surface yet again as she explains, “You can’t protect me from her. No one can.”

Regina slides her hand up to wrap around the back of Robin’s neck and pulls his head down to her for their first _real_ kiss in over a week, ignoring her singed skin for another minute in favor of feeling the hot, smooth slide of his lips against hers before she parts her lips to give him access to her tongue. Her breath hitches as he presses in close to her, chest to chest as her back bumps the wall behind her, her fingers tightening in the short strands of his hair at the back of his head. His beard rasps softly against her chin as they tilt their heads to further explore each other’s mouths, tongues dueling and stroking tenderly before they pull back to breathe, substituting their deep kisses for slow, gentle ones.

She takes a minute to heal her burn, then runs both hands up Robin’s chest to rest on his shoulders. “I’ve missed you,” she admits, rubbing her thumbs against his collarbone through his undershirt.

Robin shamelessly drops his eyes to the tops of her breasts, the creamy swells pushed up from the constraint of her black corset, licks his lips and rumbles, “You mean you’ve missed my cock.”

As he knew she would, Regina blushes bright red from head to toe at his crude words, hesitating before she collects herself and teases, “Mm, _that_ , among other things.”

He gets a pleasantly surprised look when she says it, then immediately drops his mouth to her chest, sucking lightly and placing kisses on the tops of her breasts, running his tongue through her cleavage as he presses his hips to hers, his hands framing her ribs as he pins her against the wall.

“Such a naughty girl,” Robin whispers in her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. He slides his hands to her breasts and squeezes roughly as he asks, “Have you been touching yourself all these nights we’ve been apart? Touching yourself and thinking of me? Of all the filthy things you begged me to do to you? Of all the things you still _need_ me to do to you?”

Regina hums her affirmation, scratching her fingernails lightly up the back of his neck as he sucks at her pulse point. _Jesus_. This man is pure sex.

“Been thinking about you too, darling,” he admits, kissing across her jawline to her other ear. “Been thinking about how you sound when you beg me to fuck you, about how you clench on my cock, about how you get so wet that you drip down your inner thighs until I lick you clean.”

Regina can’t help herself - she moans. He’s a filthy heathen and when he talks like this, he turns her on to a degree that she should be positively embarrassed of.

Robin nips the side of her neck then kisses her again, and Regina holds him tightly to her, arching her back to press her body against him, wanting him on top of her, or beneath her, or beside her - _anything_ to release the ache he’s created that’s throbbing in her sex now.

She feels his hands at her back, then a tug on the top ties of her corset, loosening the garment before he brings his hands back around to the front and - oh god, they can’t, ohhh they shouldn’t - he slips his hands within and pulls her breasts right up and out of it.

Robin drops his mouth to her chest as she protests, “Robin - _oh god_ \- we can’t, someone could - _jesus_ \- could walk by - _mmm_ \- any second…” She trails off on a moan as he presses her breasts together and sucks both nipples into his mouth at the same time.

There’s something wrong with her - she’s pushing at his shoulder with one hand while the other threads through his short hair, holding his face close to her chest as she arches against him, because she just _can’t_ make a decision. Regina knows how inappropriate this is, _god_ , her mother was _just here_ , but as Robin flicks his tongue over her nipples, sucking and laving over them, her arousal spikes and she closes her eyes, lets herself forget she’s in an open corridor with her breasts out, moaning and squirming under her husband’s touch like a nymphomaniac.

“Oh god,” she breathes heavily, “Robin - _ohhh -_ we can’t.”

He sucks hard on one nipple, then brings his hands up to pinch both slick, pebbled tips as he looks up at her with hooded eyes and says, “Yes-we-bloody-can.” He punctuates his sentence with a twist and tug on her sensitive peaks that makes her whine with pleasure, then goes back to sucking on her, and she’s helpless, still half-heartedly pushing against his shoulder but now she’s wrapped one leg around his calf to pull him closer, and this heat is pooling in her core like lava, her clit swollen and pulsing with each suck, and nip, and flick of his tongue against her breasts.

She hears the sound of footsteps approaching and she shoves at Robin in earnest, gasping, “Some - _ohhh_ \- someone’s coming.”

He doesn’t let up on her, instead, he locks his thickly muscled arms around her lower back and continues to feast on her breasts, sucking loudly and grinding his pelvis against her as he fights the push of her hands. “Unless that someone is you, my darling,” he rasps, licking slowly over her right nipple, “I don’t give two fucks who’s coming.”

She whines in a mix of protest and pleasure, because - shit, _shit!_ \- the footsteps are still coming closer, and she has no idea who it is or what they can see of her, but Robin is still - _mmm!_ \- sucking hard at her nipples and rubbing his hardness against her thigh, not stopping even when a man’s voice calls, “My apologies for the interruption, Your Regency, but your presence has been requested by His Majesty, Prince James.”

Robin ignores the other man, sliding his hands around to palm both of Regina’s bare breasts, massaging roughly, staring at her mounds in his hands, his thumbs flicking over her nipples in quick succession and making her gasp, making her completely conflicted over whether she wants his touch or her propriety more.

“Tell the Prince I’ll join him in the conservatory momentarily,” he grits out, “My attention is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

Robin drops his head to take her left nipple between his lips, flicking at it quickly with his tongue, pinching hard on her right one with his thumb and forefinger, causing her hips to buck against him while he chuckles with his mouth still on her. He sucks hard on her then releases the tight peak with a _pop!_ and says, “Mm, you like it like that? Like it when I get rough, when I pinch and pull and swat you? I’d wager that if I pulled up your skirts and slipped my fingers beneath your undergarments right now you’d be drenched, your hot little cunt is aching for me, isn’t it, love?”

Regina drops her head back against the wall and moans softly, “Yes, ohhh god.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, kissing up the side of her neck, pressing his entire body against her and pressing his thigh between her legs. “You want me to ruck up your skirt and fuck you right here in the hallway, fuck you right in front of my servant?”

Regina’s eyes snap open and she looks over her shoulder at the young man not ten feet from them who is purposefully staring at his feet. The man who has heard her moaning and whining and gasping under the attention of Robin’s mouth, the placement of which there is no doubt he could clearly deduce from their position. A wave of mortification rushes through her. Oh jesus, what on earth has she done? And just what was she about to do? Oh god.

The man clears his throat hesitantly and says, “I beg your pardon, Your Regency, but the Prince instructed me to tell you that it was of utmost importance that he speak with you right away.”

Regina starts pushing at Robin again, trying to twist in his arms so she can turn her back on the servant and get her breasts tucked back into her corset, snapping quietly, “Let go of me, _jesus_ ,” but Robin is having none of it - instead he pins her to the wall with his hips and holds fast to her wrists, pressing them against the wall as he turns his head to speak to the servant.

“You will tell the Prince I will join him as soon as I am through here - not a second before.”

“Yes, Your Regency.”

The footsteps start again but Robin calls out to the young man, “You have not been dismissed,” and the man immediately stops, apologizing for his mistake.

Robin turns back to Regina and kisses her lips, nips the bottom one and asks, “Now, where were we?”

 

 


	18. Chapter Sixteen - The Apology

 

 

Chapter Sixteen - The Apology

 

 

Robin’s meeting with James is odd. He doesn’t ever remember meeting with the other Prince like this - they’ve been friends much too long to have bothered with such formalities. James seems nervous when Robin greets him in the conservatory, bowing to him and addressing him as the Regent instead of by name. Robin supposes that he should probably be better about things like that now, that since he’s going to wear the crown soon enough he might as well start acting like it, so he doesn’t correct the other man and greets James accordingly.

“What is it that is so urgent?” Robin asks, quite annoyed at having to have left Regina so quickly, her temper up and his left cheek still smarting from the slap she gave him, which, if he’s being honest, he probably deserved.

James walks around the small room, looking at some of the different plants and even fiddling with a few of the leaves before he raises his eyes to Robin’s. “I’d like to ask you about Snow.”

Robin’s attitude changes from unconcerned to suspicious immediately. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, friend,” Robin studies James’ face carefully, watching for any sign of betrayal. They might be friends but Robin has never mentioned his plans to dispose of Snow to anyone but Regina, so he needs to understand exactly what James is asking before he answers him.

“I was wondering if, uh,” James raises one hand to rub the back of his neck. “If, as Regent, you might grant your permission for me to uh…” James pauses, his face flushing bright pink. “For me to court her.”

The fully belly laugh works its way out of Robin before he can stop it, his chest shaking as he doubles over, positively chortling with James’ hilarious joke. Tears form in Robin’s eyes and he swipes at them, bracing one hand on a nearby table as he cracks up for several seconds before taking a few deep breaths and calming himself.

“Thanks for that, mate,” he tells James, still chuckling, “I needed that today.”

But when Robin finally looks back to James, the other Prince isn’t laughing. In fact, James looks completely offended.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it,” James snaps, “And you didn’t give me an answer.”

“Oh come on, stop it now,” Robin cracks up again, “You’re killing me with this. Did you come up with this on your own, or did someone put you up to it? John Little, perhaps?”

James turns even more red, a scowl taking over his features as he puffs up in annoyance across from Robin. “I’ll have you know that no one put me up to this. It’s my understanding that in this situation I must ask your permission as Regent, so that’s what I’m doing - I’m asking you, Prince Regent, may I court Princess Snow, or not?”

“Have you gone mad?” Robin rubs his hands quickly across his face, suddenly realizing that James might actually be serious. “Since when have you had any interest in Snow? Honestly, mate, if you’re not having a laugh I have no idea what is going on here. You despise that spoiled brat as much as I do.”

“Well I…” James trails off, looking awkward and nervous again, running his fingers through his hair and pacing back and forth across the room. “She’s changed, and I’ve changed. I like her now, and I want to court her, if she’ll have me.”

There is a weird, wistful look, a look of adoration that flits across James’ face and makes Robin cringe. What the bloody hell has happened to his friend to cause such a shift in character?

“Are you sure?” Robin tries, “She’s certainly not like the other women you’ve been with. She’s a bit starchy for you, mate - she’ll not indulge your more adventurous tendencies. Are you sure that you want your next conquest to consist of Snow-the-Prude?”

“Don’t call her that,” James snaps, “And don’t make fun, she’s not a conquest. She’s sweet and loving and adorable, and I don’t care about those uh, those _other_ things. I’m serious, I want to court her, so tell me, will you allow it?”

Robin throws up his hands and shrugs, completely bewildered. “If that’s what you want I won’t stop you - you have my permission,” he agrees. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

James stands up straight and nods, then leaves a very confused Robin standing in the conservatory by himself. He wonders how long it will take for James to tire of Snow, and hopes that he breaks her heart before Robin gets rid of her. He’d love to watch Snow go through the agony of heartbreak just before he ends her life - it would be like icing on the cake for his little revenge plot.

Robin’s thoughts drift back to Regina, and he wonders how angry she is with him.

He can’t even bring himself to feel bad about what he did. There is something about that woman that gets him riled up, gets him worked up to a point where he stops caring about everything else in the world except for her. When he’s with Regina he falls into this living fantasy - she’s so responsive, so in sync with him on every level, and it makes him forget that there are rules - rules like, _don’t fuck in the corridor_ , and _don’t fuck in front of other people_.

Which is pretty much what they did.

Well, they didn’t _technically_ fuck, and it wasn’t _directly_ in front of other people. Before he even started to pull her skirt up he sent his servant away with a sweep of his hand, but Regina didn’t know that until they had already started, and the fact that she let him finger-fuck her when she thought there was someone standing there watching them is, well, it’s fucking hot.

He’s starting to think she’s as filthy as he is.

Sure, Regina likes to play the prim and proper Princess, acts like every sexual act he talks her into is completely against her morals, but she’s the one who begged him to finger her in the corridor, begged him _Please, inside, oh god!_ and what is he supposed to do when she asks him that, all breathy and hot and dripping-fucking-wet for him? He certainly can’t be expected to tell her no.

He’d been dreaming about her creamy tits for days, had been fantasizing about them, about her dark pink nipples and how they tighten when he sucks on them, about how she gasps when he flicks them with his tongue, so when the opportunity had presented itself, well, he couldn’t help but take advantage of it. Despite Regina’s half-hearted protests and little pushes against his shoulders, he knows for a fact that she didn’t want him to stop. She was pulling him close just as hard as she was pushing him away, and after he saw her light up her skin with magic that made even her bitch of a mother let her go, he knows that if she really wanted him to quit, she could easily make him. He’s no match for her magic, and they both know it.

When his servant had interrupted them, Robin was certain that their moment was broken, and he had tried like hell to keep her worked up, to keep pressing against her core and teasing her tits. He wanted to get her off, wanted to make her feel good after her mother had made her feel so bad, after she had hurt her. He hadn’t cared who saw them, hadn’t cared that they weren’t in an appropriate place, and as soon as he got his tongue in her mouth after the servant finally shut the hell up, it was surprisingly easy to get her back into it.

She had been fighting him to turn herself around, so he finally released her wrists and let her spin, let her start shoving those perfect tits back into her gown, taking advantage of her distractedness to start pulling up her dress. She hadn’t caught on until he had it up to her knees, but the only reaction she gave him was to go absolutely, positively still in front of him, her breasts in her hands and her head tipped forward to press her forehead against the stone wall. He bunched the heavy satin up in one hand so he could slip his other hand underneath, sliding it slowly up her thigh to her lacy undergarment, then up further so he could slide his hand under the waistband and back down to cup her.

“Alright?” he’d asked, he’d wanted to be sure that she wasn’t serious about her protests. When she didn’t immediately answer, he had started to pull his hand out, concerned that he’d crossed the line, but then one of her hands hand dropped quickly to press against his through her dress, and when she’d whispered, “Yes,” he had stroked his fingers through her slit, and he had found her _gloriously_ wet.

A few strokes of the pads of his fingers against her clit had had her pressing her arse back against him, and he had been too turned on for that - couldn’t afford to be distracted by his stupid aching cock when he had wanted so badly to make this about her. So he had coaxed her to turn to face him as he got to his knees in the corridor - the hard stones dug harshly into his patellas but he didn’t care - especially when she had agreed to hold her skirt up for him as he had divested her of her undergarments, pulled one of her legs up over his shoulder, and pressed his mouth to her sopping wet cunt.

He had wasted no time in assaulting her clit, she had already been swollen and needy for him, and he hadn’t wanted to deny her, not when she had been hurt because he’d failed to protect her. So he’d given her only pleasure, had licked and sucked at her clit as she had worked her hips against his face, her slick need running down his chin as he went down on her.

After only a few minutes of his mouth on her, Regina had started to make soft little moans of pleasure, her thighs shaking as he slurped and lapped at her entrance, and he had glanced up to find her playing with her nipples, her head thrown back as she took the pleasure he was giving her. When he had dipped his tongue inside her for a moment, she had given him a loud, _Mmm!_ followed quickly by her request for _Please, inside, oh god!_ so he’d slipped two fingers up into her, adjusted until he found her g-spot, and then he’d fingered her hard and fast, using the thumb of his other hand to rub vigorously over her clit as she had writhed, and moaned, and made these hot little _Ah, ah, ah’s!_ for him.

She came hard within seconds, had shuddered and tried to grind down on his fingers, then swatted his hand away from her clit, but he had kept at her, had kept working those two fingers hard, pressing against her inner wall as she panted and told him, “I can’t, too much, can’t,” while he had challenged her back, “Yes you can, love, yes you can.”

She’d tried to move, had tried to wriggle off of him and he’d fingered her faster, _faster_ , had felt her inner walls start to flutter and he knew she was going to come again, but the stubborn woman was still fighting him, so in a split-second decision he’d sucked the middle finger of his other hand into his mouth, gotten it good and wet, then reached around and slipped it into her arse to the first knuckle.

It had apparently surprised her so much that she’d immediately stopped fighting him, a cry of shock spilling from her lips, and he’d worked that finger carefully, slowly, not going any deeper and staying gentle as he’d rapidly thrust his other two fingers into her drenched cunt. She had let her guard down, and it only took a few more strokes in both of her holes for her to clench hard on him, her orgasm rushing over her, wringing his fingers _hard_ as she sobbed loudly, shaking and tipping forward to grab his shoulders for support as her release soaked him to the wrist.

When she had finally caught her breath he’d slipped his fingers from her, helped her right her garments, then finally got to his feet before her. He couldn’t help the grin he wore - she was beautiful, she was his, and he’d just made her come in the hallway _twice_ , and _Christ_ , if that wasn’t something to smile about, he wasn’t sure what was.

He had reached for her, and she’d jerked away, had snapped, “Don’t touch me.”

He was utterly confused. “What? Why the hell not?”

She had glared at him, smoothing her hands down the front of her black dress, her cheeks flushed from her arousal, her lips swollen from their kisses as she said waspishly, “This was completely inappropriate.”

“You’re putting me on,” he’d laughed in disbelief.

“This should never have happened here, it’s completely obscene. I’m appalled that you did this in the hallway.”

At her very serious expression, and very pompous words, he’d lost his temper and snapped, “I just got you off _twice_ \- just made you come so hard your release _ran down my arm_ , and you’re bitching about the location?”

“I warned you, I told you we couldn’t, but you didn’t listen. My reputation -”

“Fuck your reputation,” he’d snarled. “You didn’t stop me, Regina, and we both know you easily could’ve.” He had stepped closer, gotten right in her face and growled angrily, “And I didn’t hear any complaints when I had my fingers buried in your cunt _and_ your arse, so don’t even pretend that you didn’t want it, you lustful little harlot.”

And that’s when she had slapped him.

She hit him with such force that it had nearly rung his ears, and he’d stumbled back from her, shaking his head in surprise as the pain had radiated across his cheek.

“Bloody hell!” he had yelped, but when he’d looked back to her, all that was left was her signature swirl of purple smoke.

So, he’s fairly certain he’s in trouble, and he supposes he did act rather… uncouth. He goes to her room but she doesn’t answer when he knocks, so he heads back down to the great hall, where the party is still going strong, the ale flowing and lively music creating a raucous atmosphere that in his youth would have drawn Robin like a moth to a flame.

Now, however, it doesn’t hold much interest to him.

He’s got two things on his mind these days - Regina, and getting rid of Snow. He’s reluctant to admit that he thinks of those things in that order, embarrassed that Regina has taken over his thoughts in such a short amount of time. He’s starting to feel things for her, and he’s got to be careful or he’s going to get his stupid heart broken yet again.

Robin grabs a glass of wine and works his way around the room, making sure he’s made a good appearance before he leaves in search of Regina yet again. She still doesn’t answer her door, so he heads toward the library, knowing she enjoys reading and hoping he’ll find her curled up with a book.

He’s correct - as he enters the large room that’s filled with shelves upon shelves of books, some new, some ancient, he spots her on the far end, an open book in her lap. She’s not reading though, she’s relaxed, leaning back in a large, overstuffed chaise, her knees bent in front of her to hold up the book, but she’s staring off to the side, apparently lost in thought. She’s changed into a softer gown without a corset, still black but not satin - velvet perhaps - and it hugs her curves, the wide neckline showing off her collarbones, her raven hair all down and blending in almost seamlessly with the color of the dress.

Regina hears him approach and he braces himself for an awkward conversation. He’s not great at apologies, he has never been meaningful enough to have had to have given many of them throughout his life, and while he feels badly about the name-calling, he doesn’t really think he did all that much wrong. Plus, she already clocked him pretty good, he feels like maybe that makes them even.

When he gets to her, Robin crouches before her, his knees popping as he sinks down, and he holds out his hand in a silent request to hold hers. She gives him her hand closest to him - it happens to be the left - and he kisses the back of it, then kisses over his signet ring (now fitted properly to her ring finger). He rubs her hand with both of his, kissing the pad of each of her fingers carefully, slowly, one by one, then dropping to his knees and pressing a kiss to the pulse at her wrist, letting his tongue dart out to taste her skin before he finally pulls back and says quietly, “I’m sorry.”

There is a moment of silence between them, her chocolate-colored eyes fixed on his, then she furrows her brow and tells him, “You were right, I could have stopped you and I didn’t. The fault lies with me, doubly so since I felt the need to assault you for my own indiscretion.”

Robin is stunned by her change of heart, scooching closer on his knees and sitting back on his heels while he continues to hold her hand, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard, you weren’t ready -”

“I was,” she cuts him off. “I just didn’t expect to feel so… dirty afterward.” She cringes and Robin smiles sympathetically.

“My darling, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You’re brilliant, by far the fairest woman I have ever laid eyes on. When we’re together, when we’re intimate, you make me feel…” Robin trails off, just barely catching himself before he tells her something he definitely should not.

Regina runs her fingers across his brow, then strokes down the side of his face. “You have been so good to me. Since my first day in the tower, you’ve done nothing but look after me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve your friendship, Robin, or to deserve… _this…_ but I feel things when I’m with you. I feel safe, I feel desired, I feel like I…” She takes a shaking breath, her thumb stroking across his scruffy jawline as she whispers, “Like maybe I’m in love with you.”

Robin rises up on his knees and threads his fingers through the heavy strands of her hair, pulling her to him as he leans forward to kiss her passionately. She’s eager for him, her hands grasping his biceps tightly as she strokes her tongue along the seam of his lips, flicking and teasing against his when he opens his mouth for her. She hums, a deep, husky noise that makes him lean further into her, her now familiar scent of incense and apples surrounding him when he breaks the kiss to wrap her up in a tight hug.

“My god,” he rasps, kissing her temple, “You are absolutely perfect.”

She graces him with a full, beautiful smile, and doesn’t ask him to return her sentiment, which just makes him like her more, makes him want to forget his plot for vengeance and bury his past, mend his stubbornly broken heart and spend the rest of his days making her light up like this. She’s so wonderful in so many ways, he wishes things were more simple, wishes he could tell her he loves her and he’ll always keep her.

Robin cups her jaw and presses another soft kiss to her lips, then leaves her to her book, promising to catch up with her as soon as possible to discuss what happens next in this whirlwind situation they find themselves in.

 

 


	19. Chapter Seventeen - The Important Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Discussions of murder, torture, and violence

 

 

Chapter Seventeen - The Important Conversations

 

 

A few days later, Regina is on her way to the stables to go for a ride on the grouchy little gelding she’s more or less decided is hers, minding her own business, when she rounds a corner and nearly runs face first into Snow-Stupid-White.

Ugh.

She tries to step around her, hoping to ignore the brat, and is nearly past her when she feels the younger girl’s hand on her arm as she calls, “Regina, wait.”

Regina comes to a halt, turning slowly, the tails of her long black riding jacket brushing the floor as she faces the girl, dreading whatever conversation they’re about to have.

“I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” Snow says quickly, and for once the girl’s voice doesn’t hold a sharp, haughty edge to it. Odd, that.

“What of?” Regina asks, tipping up her chin in disdain, smoothing back her hair, which is already pulled up in a sleek ponytail. “I’m on my way out, I haven’t time for a lengthy conversation.”

“I just think you should know what you’ve gotten yourself into by marrying my uncle.”

Regina immediately bristles, her loyalty and protectiveness of Robin making her defensive without even knowing what Snow intends to say.

“He’s not who you think he is,” Snow continues, her tone condescending, “I’m afraid he’s misled you, tricked you into believing that he’s a good man, when everyone in this kingdom knows that he is not. In fact, had my father not protected him for so many years, he’d have long ago been punished for his horrendous crimes.”

She has to admit that Snow has captured her interest. Regina has already formed her own opinion about Robin and his merits, but apparently Snow has a story to tell, and Regina wants to hear it, just to see what sort of lies the Princess is willing to spread to get her title early.

“Is that so?” she asks, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “I’ve never heard any tales of my husband’s misdeeds.”

“Well you wouldn’t, you’re not from here,” Snow scoffs, then steps closer to her, lowering her voice and making direct eye contact as she tells Regina, “He’s a murderer. A cold-blooded killer.”

Regina raises her eyebrows in surprise. That is quite the claim to make about the man who currently holds the most powerful seat in the kingdom. “Is that so? Who did he kill?” she asks.

Snow puffs up like a peacock, then launches into the story without further delay. “My uncle has always had a soft spot for the peasantry,” she starts, “You’ll learn that soon enough, if you haven’t already. Well, several years ago, one of our citizens was caught committing multiple crimes against the crown. Since Robin was keen on the family of the peasant, he asked my father to reduce the punishment, but of course, my father had to uphold the law, and the peasant was punished appropriately. So, to get back at my father, my uncle murdered the guards that had apprehended the peasant, and when that didn’t sate his foul temper, his bloodlust drove him to murder their families as well.”

Regina listens carefully, trying to commit the details to memory, should she need them at a later date. It’s odd though - Snow actually sounds like she’s telling the truth. Even her mannerisms don’t give away her dishonesty.

“So you see, Regina, I’m just trying to look out for you.” Snow reaches out and takes Regina’s hand, and Regina has to fight the urge to snatch it away. “Robin has a murderous rage inside of him that can’t be controlled. He’s a rabid dog, and the second you let your guard down is when he’ll strike. Everyone knows that he was always jealous of all the things my father had, and that jealousy has driven him insane, has driven him to murder, has driven him to plot against me, has even driven him, I think, to marry you.” Snow looks Regina in the eye as she proposes, “And since you are an outsider who had no way of knowing all of this, I’m giving you a special opportunity to make up for your mistake of going along with him. Align yourself with me, with the rightful heir to Misthaven, and I’ll see that you’re protected.”

“What makes you think I need protection?” Regina muses dryly, unconvinced, pulling her hand from Snow’s.

“Haven’t you wondered why there is so much opposition to him as Regent?” Snow snaps, and Regina tilts her head, listening intently. “Haven’t you wondered why King Richard has been so vocal about it?”

“What does King Richard’s opinion have to do with anything?” Regina asks, a knot starting to form in her stomach. She _did_ hear about Richard’s displeasure at Robin’s regency, though she was unable to discern the cause as of yet.

“After Robin killed the guardsmen, their families fled to Sherwood, but Robin tracked them down and murdered them one by one. The reports say he killed the children first, tortured them in front of their mothers until they succumbed to their wounds, then cut out the hearts of the guardsmen’s wives while they still drew breath.” Snow visibly shudders as she tells Regina this, obviously affected by her own sinister tale. “When King Richard found out what my uncle had done, he banned him from Sherwood Forest and vowed that he’d never recognize Robin as king, should something happen to my father.”

Regina lets the information sink in, recalling a story from several years ago that she had overheard from one of the stable boys, a story about a serial murderer on the loose in the kingdom of Sherwood. She thinks hard, tries to bring up the details, but all she can remember is the boy saying something about the murderer targeting women.

“You see?” Snow says quietly, stepping toward Regina, her round hazel eyes shining in the torchlight. “He’s evil, Regina, he’s a monster.”

Regina doesn’t really know what to say in response. She can’t argue with Snow, because while she knows one version of Robin - a version that is thoughtful, kind, and devoted, she hasn’t known him long enough to know the details of his past. She knows he’s been treated as second best for his entire life, knows that he despised Leopold, and while she completely understands his hatred of his vile elder brother, _and_ why he might have his niece killed to keep the throne for himself, she suddenly remembers from their wedding night that he had specifically used the word _revenge_ when he’d spoken of getting rid of Snow. Robin has never mentioned that again and, now that she’s mixed up in the middle of this, Regina decides that it’s high time he explains himself.

“This has been an… interesting discussion,” she tells the younger girl. “But I really must go.”

Regina turns and starts to walk away, when Snow warns haughtily, “I suggest you make up your mind quickly, _step-mother_ , my offer won’t last forever.”

The girl’s self-righteous attitude irritates Regina, and she breaks her stride for a moment as she tosses over her shoulder, “My dear, were I to offer it to you, you would be a fool to turn down my allegiance.” She creates fire in her palm, letting it spread to lick at her fingertips, certain that Snow can see it. “In the meantime, it would do you good to learn to keep your tongue behind your teeth before you compromise your chances further.” Then she stalks off, her strides long and purposeful, her thoughts heavy with what the princess warned her about.

Could it be that the man she knows, the man she thought she was falling in love with, the man she calls ‘ _husband’_ , really is a cold-blooded killer?

 

____________________________________

 

Robin’s study is a beautiful, large room with tall bookshelves that line the walls, a white marble hearth, and a huge, light-colored pine desk in the center that takes up most of the space. There are two wingback chairs that are also made of pine, with dark green suede cushions that bracket either side of the hearth, a small table between them upon which Robin’s chessboard is set up. Robin and Regina occupy each of the chairs, just having reset the board after yet another of Regina’s victories.

It’s been a nice evening so far, the first that they have spent together like this since before she was released from the tower, and though Regina has important things she needs to discuss with him, she’s reluctant to break the mood just yet.

She’s playing with the white pieces tonight, not her preferred color, but it allows her to start this round, which she uses to move her pawn to e,4.

Robin quickly counters, moving the piece directly across from hers to e,5, blocking her pawn with his.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says quietly, as she take a moment to consider her next move. “Did your mother teach you your magic, or is it something you just… knew?”

Regina slides her knight to f,3 and tells him, “There are a few things that I could do naturally when it first presented. My mother taught me to control it on a basic level, then she sent me for training to develop it to my fullest potential.”

Robin nods. “What was natural for you, if that’s not too personal of me to ask?” He moves his own knight to c,6.

She smirks, turning both of her hands face up over the chessboard, flames flickering in her palms as she raises one eyebrow, flashes him a devious look across the orange glow and murmurs, “Fire.”

Robin chuckles softly and says, “I should’ve known it would be something _hot_ ,” as he gives her a flirtatious smile.

She blushes, and blows out the flames. “And what about you?” she returns, moving her other knight to c,3. “How is it you know how to pick locks, pilfer, and generally sneak around so well? Those are not traits I associate with many princes I have met.”

Robin gives her a boyish grin, moving his second knight to f,6 then cocking his head to the side as he says, “Well, it started because I had a bit of a knack for getting into trouble as a lad. Didn’t have anyone my own age to run ‘round with, so I had to make my own fun. I made a game out of seeing what I could steal from Leo before he caught on.” Regina laughs, picturing Robin as a boy, his dark blonde hair, deep dimples, bright blue eyes, and that grin - he must have been an adorable child - and she feels warmth spread through her, a smile gracing her lips as he continues. “The better I got, the more annoyed my brother got - at one point I think Leo had locked me in every room of this castle at least once to try to contain me.” Robin pauses to look up at her, flashing her that smile again, “But then that became a game too, and after a while he couldn’t keep me locked up at all, no matter how hard he tried.”

Regina slides her bishop to c,4. God, she likes him, _loves_ that he’s a troublemaker, that he has always colored outside the lines. He makes her want to make trouble, want to get messy, want to see just how far out of bounds she’s actually willing to go.

“When I was about twelve I met John and Will - they were pilfering food from the royal stables one night, and I happened to be locked up in the storeroom when they picked the lock,” he smirks at his own story, moving his pawn to d,6. “They’re both from Sherwood, originally, but they came over when Richard was off fighting in his godforsaken crusades and that bloody Sheriff of Nottingham was terrorizing the whole of Sherwood Forest. They’d both lost their families, they were starving and came looking for apples and grain.”

Regina feels a shot of sympathy rush through her for the two men who were so welcoming to her, who were warm and funny, who protected her secret and ensured both her and Robin’s safety that night in the tavern.

“We made a deal that night, the three of us,” Robin says, looking toward the fire, lost in the memory. “They’d teach me how to hone my skills at skullduggery, and I’d make sure there was always something worth eating in that storeroom.”

She smiles, her heart so full of warmth at Robin’s story as she comes to understand that John and Will are more brothers to him than Leopold ever was. She reaches for his hand, weaving her fingers through his as he looks from the fire back to her. He studies her face for a moment, his expression soft, and it makes him look so much younger, lets her easily imagine him running wild with Will and John, causing mayhem and charming every lucky girl they came across. When he’s relaxed like this, it’s easy for Regina to see why he’s so _experienced_.

He drops his gaze to their joined hands, smiling softly and says, “Your move, darling.”

Regina slides her knight to g,5, and he asks, “Who tutored you in magic? I can’t imagine it’s easy to find someone who is qualified to do so.”

She smiles, thinking of Maleficent and of their time spent together. “The Guardian of the Moors,” she tells him, and Robin’s brows shoot up.

“Surely you don’t mean the Dragon, do you?” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Don’t call her that,” Regina snaps, then calms herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just, she hates it when people call her that, she’s more than just a shape-shifter, you know.”

“My apologies,” Robin corrects himself, his eyes sincere as he takes and squeezes her hand, “I didn’t realize that it was offensive - it’s how I’ve always heard her referred to.” Regina nods and he asks, “May I ask what I should address her as, should I ever have the privilege?”

“You could of course use her name, _Maleficent_ ,” Regina tells him, “But she doesn’t mind being addressed as Her Guardianship, either.”

“Thank you,” he moves his bishop to g,4 - directly in place to take her queen, then asks, “Were the two of you close? I haven’t heard you speak of any friends from your kingdom, is it because you were away in The Moors?”

Regina chews her lip as she studies the chessboard. It’s hard for her to explain her lack of friends. When your mother is Cora, it simply isn’t easy - no one is good enough, or brave enough, or tough enough to withstand the punishment that goes along with being friends with the Queen’s daughter, so Regina had very few. Maleficent indeed, was, _is_ , her dearest and closest friend, but she has not seen nor heard from her in almost a year.

“We were very close,” Regina admits, moving her bishop to take his pawn at f,7.

He moves his king into safety at e,7, and she can feel him looking at her, knows she owes him an answer, that she should tell him about her relationship with Mal but… to be honest she’s not really sure how to describe it. Magic is a funny thing, it’s something that those without it really don’t understand, and Regina has a bond with Mal that she is certain she will never have with anyone else. A bond that taught her things outside of magic that she’s not so sure Robin should know about just yet.

“Is that where you learned to kiss so well?” he asks nonchalantly, and Regina accidentally knocks over her knight, quickly rights it, then places it on g,5, where she originally intended. Robin chuckles but says nothing else.

To be honest, she’s a little stunned by his question. Mal certainly isn’t the only person she’s kissed, nor the person she’s kissed the most, but he’s right, it is where she learned to kiss _well_. She blushes, gives him the side-eye and asks, “How did you know that?”

Robin mutters a curse under his breath as he looks at the chessboard, then back at her, squinting for a moment before he moves his knight to d,5 to capture hers. “Because it takes men years to learn how to kiss properly, and you’re much too young and much too good at it to have been taught by one.”

She laughs, and he joins her in it, his flirtation making her heart do that little flip in her chest she has come to crave when she is near him. Regina looks back to the game before her, seeing her opportunity to win starting to take shape, and she slides her queen to g,4, capturing Robin’s bishop as he quietly mutters, “ _Fuck.”_

It takes him a long time to make his next move, and they are quiet while he looks over the board, his eyes flitting across it, studying all possible routes for the pieces to travel. He gets up after yet another five minutes without having played, asking, “Wine, darling?” and she nods, prompting him to take her goblet with him as he stands to take the decanter from the mantle.

“Snow said something strange to me today,” Regina tells him, “She said it as a ploy to switch my allegiance from you to her, but her story was quite detailed, and I was wondering if you might clear it up for me?”

“Of course,” he says, pouring a generous amount of merlot into her glass.

Regina gathers her courage, hoping that this doesn’t ruin their evening, but she really wants to know if Snow was just messing with her, or if there was truth in what the girl said. There is something gnawing at her that makes her nervous about it, makes her think there might be more to it, and she needs to ask Robin before it starts to bother her more.

“The night we were married, you said that we were friends, and that you tell your friends the truth - does that still stand?” she asks, looking for reassurance before she throws this at him. She trusts him, and she hopes he trusts her.

“Absolutely,” Robin says, placing the decanter back on the mantle and taking his seat once again. He hands her her glass, and she takes a sip, the dark wine smooth and flavorful in her suddenly dry mouth.

“Snow said that…” she hesitates, “She said that several years ago you became angry with Leopold, and that in a rage you killed several guards and their families. That you hunted them all the way to Sherwood Forest, that you’re banned from there because of it - that King Richard won’t recognize you as King because you’re a, a murderer. Is there truth in any of that?” Her pulse is pounding, her grip tight on the stem of her goblet as she watches him stare at the chessboard, his jaw tight and brow furrowed.

Robin moves his knight to f,6, then takes a sip of wine and looks her in the eyes as he tells her, “There is truth in _all_ of that.”

“Oh.” She’s not sure what she was expecting him to say, but it absolutely was _not_ that. “Would you tell me your version? Would you tell me why?” she tries, her heart racing.

“There isn’t anything to tell,” he says quietly, leaning back in his seat. “I became angry with my brother, and in a rage I murdered six guards and their families. Those that ran I followed to Sherwood Forest, where I tracked them down and killed them, too. Richard banned me on account of the murders, and he holds a grudge to this day. There isn’t anything more to tell than that.”

He’s obviously holding back from her, and it makes her angry that he’s being so flippant, that he’s not giving her anything more than what she already knows.

“Why were you angry with Leopold?” she asks.

“I was always angry with Leopold.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she argues, “What drove you into a rage? Snow said it was because you wanted a peasant’s punishment to be less severe but Leopold refused to go easy. Why would you be so upset about something like that?”

“Because I’m a peasant sympathizer,” he shrugs, looking into the fire.

Regina sighs and sets down her goblet. “Why won’t you tell me your side of the story, Robin? I’m not judging you, you know that I…” she clears her throat, unwilling to tell him she loves him when he’s being such an obstinate ass. An obstinate ass who _still_ hasn’t said it back. “I just want to know the truth about what happened, and I know what Snow told me isn’t it.”

“I just told you the truth,” his voice is carefully controlled. He motions toward the chessboard. “It’s your turn.”

She opens her mouth to argue further, but he won’t look at her, he’s staring stubbornly into the fire, his grip so tight on his goblet that his fingers are white. Regina drops her gaze to the game, moves her queen to e,6, and says, her tone irritated, “Checkmate.”

Robin’s eyes snap to the chessboard, and he studies it for a moment, the soft _tick-tick-tick-tick_ of the clock on his desk the only sound.

And then he flips the table.

It happens so quickly that Regina _almost_ doesn’t have a chance to react, but having grown up with Cora, her reflexes are faster than most, and before the pieces can fly into the fire (which is exactly where they’re headed) she casts the room into slow-motion. She focuses in on the chess set and draws the pieces back… back… back… until everything is perfectly reset on the little table between them, then she releases the spell and returns the room to normal speed.

Robin stares at her from where he is now standing with his fists clenched, his expression a mixture of anger and surprise, his jaw clenched tight. Regina has barely even moved - her hands have come up, that was necessary for her to cast her magic, but otherwise she’s still sitting in her chair, her legs crossed, back straight, and _\- oh!_ \- her goblet of wine is still floating in mid-air next to her, which she immediately rectifies by taking it in hand and bringing it to her lips for a long, slow sip.

She looks right at him as she swallows, licks her lips, then keeps her voice low and steady as she scolds, “If you think I’m unused to dealing with fits of temper, you had better think again, dear husband. Now, have a seat.”

 

 


	20. Chapter Eighteen - The Q&A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has anal sex in it, but a lot of other good stuff too. So I hope you'll give it a chance, even if that's not your favorite type of smut.
> 
> TW - Mild mentions/descriptions of torture and murder

 

 

Chapter Eighteen - The Q&A

 

 

Robin immediately does as she asks, resuming his seat in the chair across from Regina, stunned into silence at her brilliant use of magic and her uninterruptible calm in response to his idiotic outburst with the chessboard. They sit quietly for several minutes, and he can feel her staring at him but he can’t bring himself to look at her, not when he feels so terrible for acting like _such_ an arse. He can’t help it though, he doesn’t want to talk about this, he doesn’t want Regina to _know_ \- things are going so well between them, and _fuck_ , she _can’t_ know, because if by some stroke of luck she manages to understand (she won’t, how could she?), she’s going to start looking at him like everyone else does. She’s going to see the black streaks that cross his heart, the blood on his hands, the darkness in his eyes. She’ll see that he’s fucking ruined, that he’s absolutely not worthy of her, and _god-fucking-damnit,_ he wishes he’d already killed Snow.

Several more minutes pass, then Regina stands, walks over to him and places one knee on each side of his thighs, then slowly sinks down onto his lap so she’s straddling him. His hands immediately go to her hips, selfishly tugging her closer and helping her settle on him as she slides her fingers up his chest to the back of his neck, her nails scratching soothingly for a few seconds before she says, “You’re upset, and clearly you don’t know how to talk about this. So for the moment, how about we direct all that negative energy somewhere more… satisfying?”

A shiver of arousal rushes through Robin, and he tightens his fingers on her waist as she ducks her head and sweetly bumps her nose against his, then kisses him softly. He tries to deepen the kiss, but Regina leans back, teasing him, playing hard to get as he chases her mouth with his, growing more desperate by the second to have her lips against him.

Instead of letting him catch her lips, though, she tips her head back, her long hair pulled up in a sleek ponytail hanging down her back as she bares her neck to him. Robin immediately presses kisses to the column of her throat, darting his tongue out to flick against her, sucking at the dip between her collarbones before working his way back up. His tension, anger, and frustration melts away as he touches her, as he tastes the salt of her skin. It’s soothing to be allowed to this, to be able to press his mouth to her smooth, soft skin, to smell her, to taste her, to feel the heat of her body against his lips and tongue. It relaxes him, calms him - being able to pleasure her soothes his soul and douses his temper in a way nothing else ever has.

She sighs against him, her fingers playing with the fabric of his light gray tunic, her hips rocking ever so slightly against him as she brings her head back up and says, “There, now. Tell me what happened.”

It’s tempting, it really, _really_ is, but he hasn’t lied to her, everything he’s told her about that whole event is true.

He did murder those guardsmen. And their ‘families’. Robin doesn’t know exactly what Snow told Regina - he imagines she exaggerated the tale as she always does, probably told Regina he tortured children and raped the wives before he flayed them all alive. That’s not the case, actually - five of the six guardsmen didn’t have families at all - four of which fled to Sherwood after he tortured and killed the guard whose sword had delivered the killing blow. The one that did have a wife used her as a human shield when Robin came for him, so he’d fired his arrow clean through the hearts of both of them, not caring that he took the woman’s life so long as he killed the man.

In Sherwood, Robin tracked the other guardsmen for weeks, using whatever tactics he needed to in order to get information out of the peasantry, who had decided it was their duty to aid the bastards, convinced that Robin was some sort of phantom who would devour their babes and ruin their daughter’s virtue at any chance he got. So yeah, he may have laid hands on a few people to get leads, and he may have scared the living hell out of a few children to get them to talk, but he never hurt a child, and he never touched a woman against her will. His rage wasn’t about that.

He has no excuse for the evil deeds he did commit though - he murdered all of those guardsmen in horrible, torturous ways - made them pay for what they did to his sweet Marian, made them feel the agony that he felt when she was ripped from this world. He took his time, made them scream, and beg, and wet themselves, until John or Will finally convinced him to put an end to them, at which point he shot arrows through their chests - since they had managed to rip his heart in half, it was only fair that he return the favor.

Regina presses a kiss to his cheek, trailing up to his ear, bringing him out of the past with the slide of her tongue along the shell of it, urging, “Tell me,” in that low, breathy voice that gets him hard in a matter of seconds. Robin runs his hands down under the long tails of her riding jacket to squeeze her arse, thrusting up a little as he pulls her down, trying to get a bit of friction started, suddenly wanting nothing more than to fuck her until she stops bloody asking him about it.

“Take off your clothes,” he rasps, skimming his fingers along the waistband of her pants.

She makes a small amused hum in the back of her throat and says, “Perhaps I will… if you tell me.”

Robin undoes the first two buttons of her pants and says, “Take off your clothes, and maybe I’ll tell you while I fuck you.”

The way her breath stutters out gives away just how turned on she is, and Robin unbuttons her coat quickly, then starts working on the leather halter she has on underneath. She doesn’t stop him, and his fingers are nimble, slipping the buttons through the holes at top speed, until he can slide off her jacket and her top so he can finally set eyes on her perfect, full tits.

He brings his mouth to her chest immediately, content to let her grind on him as he plays with her dark little nipples, sucking and flicking to get them to tighten for him. He loves her tits, wishes he could see them more often - would love to make a rule that she must always be topless in his presence, if he thought for a second she’d let him get away with it.

He scrapes his teeth across the bottom swell of her left breast, then sucks hard, a little _Mmm!_ falling from her lips as he marks her.

“Tell me,” she demands. She’s such a stubborn girl.

“Get naked,” he reminds, pinching both of her nipples and twisting roughly, tugging and releasing, then slapping lightly at her breasts, just to watch them shake.

Regina’s breaths are coming quickly, her hips rocking against him as he marks her other breast, just to the left of her nipple, purpling her creamy skin as the word _Mine_ bounces around in his head. He uses his tongue to flick-flick-flick across her peaked tip, teasing her, his other hand rubbing her through her pants, and she whines softly, needy for him.

“Take off your clothes,” Robin says again, his lips brushing her pebbled peak. “You know you want to, you want my cock inside of you, stretching you, hitting you deep. You want me to make you come, to make you gush that slick release, to make you flushed and hot and breathless.”

Regina pulls at the hem of his shirt, tugging roughly and getting it up and off of him with very little effort, then presses her bare chest to his, her nipples _so_ hard, her lips skating along his scruffy jawline as she counters, “If I let you get inside of me now, you’ll be too distracted for conversation.”

And that’s pretty hard to argue with, actually. It’s the whole point of what he was going for - to distract her with arousal so she’d let it go, and then if she still wouldn’t leave it alone, he’d just occupy her mouth with other activities so she can’t ask questions he doesn’t feel like answering.

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” he commands, trying to take control, undoing the rest of the buttons on her pants and tugging them half-way down her arse.

“Mmm, I want to dear, but I don’t believe you’ll tell me,” she challenges, raking her nails lightly down his chest, her dark brown eyes gorgeous in the firelight, her pupils blown wide with arousal. _Christ_ , since when is she such a confident, teasing, sexy little minx?

Robin slaps her arse hard enough for her to jump and laughs, “You know, there’s one thing you could let me do that’d make me tell you anything.”

“Oh? And that is?”

Robin runs his tongue up the long line of her neck, sucking wetly for a moment, knowing she will never allow him to do what he’s about to tell her, before he puts his lips to her ear and whispers, “You let me fuck your tight little arse, and I’ll answer any question you can come up with.”

She goes completely still above him, and Robin smirks in victory.

“My ass?” She chokes out, eyes wide, clearly shocked.

“That’s right,” he shoves his fingers down the back of her pants, playing with the lacy knickers he finds beneath, snapping the waistband as he says, “I’ll make you a deal - for as long as you let me fuck your arse, you can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer you without hesitation. No games, no tricks, just straight answers.”

“That’s disgusting,” she snaps, trying to pull back from him, but he’s still got his hands down the back of her pants, and he locks his arms to keep her close. “You’re a- a- a miscreant, a deviant. That’s completely reprehensible - no deal. Absolutely no way.”

“It’s not disgusting, it’s just different,” he reasons, kissing the tops of her breasts. “You liked it when I licked you there on our wedding night, didn’t you?” Robin sucks each of her nipples, then laves the flat of his tongue across them. “You liked it when I slid my finger inside of there when we were in the corridor,” he continues, squeezing both cheeks of her arse and pressing her against his hard-on. “You might even like it when I slide my cock inside of you, slick and so, so carefully, letting you feel every inch until I’m buried deep in your arse.”

Robin pauses to suckle her nipple, holding suction and pulsing rhythmically as she lets out a low moan. He pulls back and releases it with a slick _pop_ , a trail of saliva running from his lips to her breast for a moment, making him ache to put his mouth elsewhere, ache to see and feel her wetness all over him.

“Just think, darling, think about how I’ll rub your clit fast while I thrust into your arse nice and slow, and you’ll be wet, _so wet_ , but your hot little cunt will be empty, _aching_ for me to fill it, and that’ll just make you hotter, just make you needier. _Fuck_ , love, wanna get in you so bad, say you’ll try it, I promise I can make it feel so, so good, _I promise_.” He rocks his hips up in emphasis, and as she arches back, he starts pressing kisses to her tan, smooth stomach.

“But that’s not, _mmm_ , it’s not natural,” she argues quietly, threading her fingers through his short hair. “Won’t it hurt?”

“Not the way I’m going to do it,” he reassures, “Perhaps a little discomfort at first, but I won’t hurt you, I swear it, I’m going to make you feel incredible, going to get you off so good, going to make you come in a way you’ve never done before.” He nips lightly at the curve of her ribs, then works his way back up to her breasts, massaging them with his large calloused hands as she writhes on him.

“I’m not… ohhh,” she sighs when he tweaks both of her nipples. “I’m not sure.”

“You know that spot deep inside you, the spot that’s so, so sensitive?” he asks, pulling her up close and kissing her lips, then looking in her eyes as she nods, blushing prettily. “I can hit it from this way too,” he tells her, and her eyebrows shoot up. “So when I rub your clit just how you like - those circles, fast and smooth - and start thrusting right against that sensitive spot from behind, you’re going to come without me ever having fucked your needy little pussy. You’re going to gush with nothing inside of you there, you’re going to clench, and shake, and shudder for a cock that’s in your arse, instead of where your body really wants it.” He kisses her lips, as her eyes widen in understanding, thrusting his hips up teasingly as he strokes his hands down her sides. “Let me show you how good you can feel, darling.”

She looks him in the eyes, her dark gaze sharp, so intense as she studies him, and he’s certain she’s going to tell him no again. That’s completely fine, he can respect that, he can understand that this is something she may never have an interest in - this is definitely more out of bounds than anything else they’ve done.

But then she whispers, “Okay.”

He wants to pause, wants to allow himself to be shocked by her acquiescence, but that’s exactly the reason he doesn’t - if he waits and she comes to her senses, he’s pretty sure she’ll change her mind, and _fuck_ , he really wants to slide into her arse at least once.

Robin stands quickly, his arms wrapped under her thighs as he carries her to his desk, setting her on it and pulling off her boots, pants, and underwear as fast as he can. She’s flushed, her chest pink and nipples erect, her bottom lip swollen from her biting on it, and as he spreads her thighs she’s - _oh, fucking christ_ \- already _so_ wet.

Robin only keeps a few things on his desk - just that clock and a few trinkets he doesn’t give two fucks about - so when he tugs Regina’s hips forward and leans over her, kissing her lips passionately as he pushes her down on her back, he doesn’t feel bad about swiping the desk clean. He rubs his fingers through her folds, gathering up that wetness and pressing against her clit, swirling fast as she arches beneath him, her fingers digging into his back in pleasure. Robin works her clit rapidly, then slides his middle and ring fingers deep into her, curling them and tapping fast against her front wall as she moans loudly and bucks up against his hand. He works her until his forearm aches, but he doesn’t let her come, just gets her turned on to the point that she’s begging, moaning and panting, her entire body flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Then he pulls his fingers from her entirely and rolls her over onto her stomach so that she’s bent over the desk for him.

“Please-please-please,” she begs, and Robin is confident she’s too turned on now to ask him anything more than to make her come, so he starts rubbing his fingers from her core to her arse, prepping her, dragging her wetness to where he needs it.

He strokes his other hand over her arse, massaging her gorgeous, rounded muscles while he unbuckles his belt and gets his trousers open, praising her, _So hot_ and _God, you’re soaked_ , and _Can’t wait to feel you_.

She wriggles beneath him, needing to come, too close to her release to be thinking clearly, so he rubs the head of his cock through her slick heat, using his saliva for extra lubricant, rubbing it around her rear entrance as he dips his finger into her, thrusting his thick digit carefully several times as she gasps and moans softly. After several strokes of his finger, he pulls it out and lines up the head of his cock, then presses forward slowly, one hand around his shaft, the other on her lower back, then stops.

“Alright, darling,” he tells her, his voice rough with restraint, his cock aching for attention. He’s so worked up that she’s letting him try this, that he’s shaking with excitement.

Regina takes a deep breath under him, bracing herself for it, and that’s _not_ going to work.

“Relax,” he soothes, rubbing his hand up and down her back, “The more you tense the less pleasure you’ll have. I’m going to do right by you, you’ve no need to fear that I’ll hurt you.” Robin leans forward and kisses down her spine, rubbing his cock against her rear entrance as he continues, “That feels good, yeah?” He reaches around to press two fingers to her clit, gaining confidence when she nods. He starts up that swirling motion she likes, and she moves her hips under him, panting again, her back arching, and he takes the opportunity to nudge into her arse a tiny bit.

He works into her carefully, so, so gentle, letting her take him at _her_ pace, sliding in a bit further the more she relaxes, the more she realizes that as long as they move slowly, she feels nothing but sweet stimulation. It takes forever to sink just the head of his cock into her, but he doesn’t mind _at all_ , because she doesn’t wince once, and when he asks, over and over, if it hurts, she continues to reassure him that it doesn’t, which he believes - she has all the time in the world to adjust. This is not a race, and that’s the key - it’s quite a simple concept, really. One he’s got the head of him in her, he lets her take over, lets her work him further and further into her at her own pace, lets her move her hips, back and forth on him, as he spreads her cheeks wide and contributes his saliva to make it easier for her.

Robin has his cock halfway buried in her when she asks, “Would it be alright if I use a little magic to make things more… slippery?”

Robin smiles, stroking the long contours of her back with both hands, then kneads her arse cheeks for a moment before he slips out of her. “Of course, whatever you need. That’d be brilliant, actually.”

She makes a strange motion with her fingers, and when he presses back against her entrance, she’s outrageously slick, making it so, so easy for him to slide in that he almost forgets not to go deep, catching himself just past the halfway point as he groans and digs his fingers into her thick, round muscles. She’s panting, her breaths fast and shaky beneath him, and it’s getting harder for him to stay in control. Regina is so tight and feels so incredible that he just wants to pound into her, _fuck_ , but he swore not to hurt her, and _christ_ , they’re so close to where they need to be so that he _can_ start thrusting that if he can just keep it together a while longer, this could be bloody amazing.

He gathers his senses, reaching around to rub her clit for her again, and when her hips jerk beneath him, he finally slides all the way in. He keeps his fingers moving on her clit but holds steady otherwise, listening for sounds of discomfort, watching her flex her fingers on the desk and the quick rise and fall of her chest. Then he pulls back slowly and slides in, giving her one long, careful stroke.

To his absolute relief, Regina moans.

It’s not necessarily a cry of ecstasy, but he’s pretty sure it’s a sound of pleasure, which he confirms when he asks, “Still alright, my love?” and she nods, arching her back as she gasps, _Yes._

“Shall I keep going?” he asks, sliding out just as slowly, then in again, his entire body vibrating with arousal, his thick fingers rubbing steadily on her clit.

“Yeah, keep going,” she gasps, then, “Who was the server girl I saw you with at the tavern, that night I beat Will at Cheat?”

Robin slides out, then _slowly_ in, trying to concentrate on her question, shocked that she has any sense to remember their deal, and that she’s spending her time not even asking him about the murders.

“Ruby,” he grits out, “Granny’s granddaughter, she’s like a cousin to me.”

He pulls back then carefully thrusts in, changing the angle slightly, trying to point the head of his cock toward the floor, and he knows he gets it right because she gasps, this high-pitched, desperate sound escaping her lungs as her fingernails dig into the desk. “There?” He asks. She’s _so_ , _fucking_ , _tight_ , _goddd_.

She nods, so he repeats the action, she makes that hot little noise again, and on his next slow instroke she asks, “Do you have sex with her?”

He thrusts just a tad faster, lightly kicking her feet apart so he can get better access to her clit.

“No, darling, never have, never will - she’s into women, and _I_ am into you, and you alone.”

She _Mmm’s_ beneath him and he takes the liberty of thrusting twice, slow and steady, before she gets her next question out.

“Did you,” he strokes in and she actually trembles beneath him, making a needy _Mmm_ low in her throat before she finishes her sentence, “kill Leopold?”

Robin smirks, because for once he’s not to blame. “No, but I wish I had.”

He thrusts again and notices she’s starting to rock back against him, so he slides his fingers to her cunt and finds her completely soaked, her slick need coating her inner and outer lips, nearly dripping with desire. He curses quietly, his hips jerking against her arse with his own arousal, losing control for just a moment because _fuck,_ she’s hot, _so fucking sexy._ She’s aroused because _he’s fucking her arse,_ and he can’t believe she’s letting him do it, he can’t believe she’s getting off on this, _and fuck, oh god,_ he’s got to not think about it or he’ll come, he’s got to think of something else, and _fast_.

“Would you have let him bed me that night?”

This conversation is not at all what Robin thought it would be. Actually, he didn’t think there would be a conversation at all. It seems he’s losing his touch - perhaps he’s not as good at getting her worked up as he thought.

He strokes into her, a bit faster this time, getting another little moan _\- christ, her arse is tight, goddd -_ and tells her, “At first yes, up until I got my mouth on you, and decided I wasn’t giving you up.” He thrusts again, “But then you pulled away from me, and I remembered that you didn’t actually want me in your bed in the first place, and it brought me back to my senses rather quickly. So, yes I was going to let him bed you.”

Robin gives her a rather firm stroke, and she makes an _Oomph!_ sound beneath him, reminding him that he can’t fuck her hard, and he quickly gentles his strokes, murmuring his apology as he rotates his hips and starts a deep, slow rhythm in her.

He has to look up then, can’t watch the slick slide of his cock as he works in and out of her arse, as her perfect, round cheeks bracket his thick length - it’s too fucking hot and he’s starting to get close, is starting to feel the tingle of his orgasm starting in his balls as he works and works her clit.

“Wanted you,” she whines, her voice breathy, an octave higher than usual. Robin speeds up a tiny bit, his excitement getting the best of him as he fucks her arse, trying to be careful, trying so hard to go easy, but starting to lose control. “Wanted you in my bed, _mmm god,_ so much.”

“ _Oh, christ_ ,” he groans, resting against her backside for a moment, keeping his fingers moving over her, reaching further to dip inside of her other entrance, teasing her, then dragging her wetness back up to her clit.

She starts to move beneath him, starts fucking herself carefully, and he can’t, _fuck_ , he just _can’t_ anymore, he’s too hard, too aroused, just too _everything_ , and he needs to go faster, needs to give them both a release, a release that she suddenly seems to _want_ from this.

“Well, you’ve got me now,” Robin tells her, speeding his thrusts up to a good pace now, still careful, still gentle, but moving fast enough that he knows it’s going to get him off, and very likely her too, if he can last. _Fuck,_ she’s tight. “Anytime you want me in your bed, darling, you can have me. I’ll fuck you to exhaustion every night, if you’ll let me.”

“Careful, dear,” she warns, breathless, “Don’t make promises you can’t, _mmm,_ keep… _Ohh!_ ”

Her round cheeks bouncing as he thrusts quickly into her arse is the vision of perfection, her gasps and little moans so erotic that they make his stomach drop out with excitement. His legs are starting to shake, his balls tightening with arousal, everything in him holding back his release as he tries to push her closer to hers. Fuck, he’s close, he’s so fucking close, and he knows she is too, she’s twisting her hips under him, her clit hard and swollen as he rub-rub-rubs on it, her sex completely soaked, her arse so tight and so slick from her magic, _goddd_ she’s so bloody good.

“Did you, _mmm! oh god,_ kill children?” she moans, rocking beneath him.

“ _Fuck_ no,” he grits out, “I would never hurt a child.”

On his next three thrusts she makes these desperate _uhn, uhn, uhn,_ sounds, and he keeps going, so close - _fuck, fuck, fuck_ \- he’s so close.

“Why did you, _ohhh_ ,” she bucks beneath him, “ _Oh,_ _god,_ wha, why did you - _ohhh,_ please, just like – _mmm!_ don’t stop, yeah, yeah, _ohhh!_ ”

She comes before she finishes her question, throwing her head back, going up on her tiptoes beneath him as he thrusts again, again, again, her swollen clit pulsing under his fingers before he slides them further down her slit to feel the way her other entrance contracts around nothing, wishing he was inside of her to feel it. Robin slips out of her arse, pumping his length quickly, bringing his other hand around to massage his balls for a few seconds, then bracing on her lower back as he comes, coating her arse cheeks with hot jets of his release. His hands and legs shake with the rush of endorphins, and he presses down on her harder on her than he means to, but he can barely keep his balance - he’s just come so bloody hard that he’s lightheaded. He’s tempted to close his eyes and savor the feeling, but the image of his come running down the cheeks of her arse, bracketing her swollen, reddened, rear entrance is one he refuses to miss even a second of.

It takes several minutes for them to catch their breath and recover, and Robin tries his best to be a gentleman by using his handkerchief to clean her up. They get dressed quickly, quietly, and he finds himself wishing they were in bed so he could cuddle her, so they could lay together, stroking and touching and coming down in each other’s arms.

They resume their seats by the fire, and a huge wave of guilt crashes over him when he sees her wince and shift to the side, already sore from his intrusion. Robin has the urge to hold her, to carry her to bed, to put his mouth on her and make her come until she forgets she’s sore from the activity that he _still_ can’t believe he talked her into.

“Your answer, if you please,” she prompts, sipping from her goblet of wine from earlier.

“My answer to what?”

“To my question - why did you murder the guards and their families?” she narrows her eyes suspiciously.

He knows she’s going to be cross with him for it, but he just cannot bring himself to tell her about Marian. It’s a part of his life that is separate from Regina, and he wants to keep it that way, doesn’t want to mix the awful in with something that is _so good._ “I’m sorry my love, but you didn’t ask me that,” he argues, “I believe you met your climax before you could complete your question, and per the terms of our deal, I’m disinclined to explain further than I already have.”

“You’re kidding me,” she snaps, her eyes dark and stormy with anger.

“No, I’m not kidding.” He pauses, sees the fury in her eyes and tries, “Listen, I’ve told you the truth - I haven’t lied - but I’ll not speak of this anymore. It’s not something that concerns you. Trust me on this.”

“Trust you?” she scoffs. “You’ve asked me to help you get rid of Snow White, to help you enact your revenge on her - revenge for reasons that you haven’t bothered to explain. Now I’ve learned that you’ve murdered several people for _more_ reasons you won’t explain, and you’re asking me to trust you? I’m not an idiot, you know, I’m not a pawn in this game you’re playing.”

Robin’s own temper flares. She’s just being stubborn, he’s not playing any games, and he’s about to tell her that when suddenly Regina stands, sets down her goblet and makes for the door.

She pauses before she leaves, then turns to him, a look of betrayal written clearly across her beautiful face, and Robin suddenly realizes that this is a much more serious conversation than he realized.

Regina’s voice is low, full of hurt as she warns quietly, “You’re terrible at chess, Robin, keep that in mind the next time you decide to play me.”

The door slams behind her, and this time when he flips the table, she’s not there to save the chess set.

 

 


	21. Chapter Nineteen - The Truth

 

 

Chapter Nineteen - The Truth

 

 

Regina is in the library when she hears Robin approach, recognizing his gait and the soft scrape of his leather boots on the marble tile before she lifts her head from her book to confirm it really is him.

She has been able to avoid him for an entire week, but she’s grown tired of running, of hiding, of teleporting in order to get away from him. She’s not afraid – his sordid tale may have upset her but it didn’t _scare_ her. She believes that he very likely had good reasons to do what he did, believes that there is truth behind his anger over the peasant’s punishment, believes that he was probably close with their family, as he is with so many of the citizens of Misthaven. So no, it’s not fear that drives her away from him.

It’s anger. Disappointment. Mistrust. And she can’t decide if she feels those things more strongly directed at him, or herself.

Perhaps it’s difficult for him to talk about what happened – she can understand that, can see how such an event might not be something he wants to think about ever again. But it doesn’t change the fact that he did whatever he did, for whatever reason he had, and now he’s purposely hiding it from her while asking her to bloody her own hands by dispatching Snow White. He’s asking her to darken her heart for him, to trust him, to take an action that can have severe consequences, _knowing_ she only has half of the information. The way he’s treating her makes her feel like she’s a blind lamb being led to the slaughter.

Regina doesn’t like Snow. Actually, that’s not true. Regina _hates_ Snow. And she was willing to aid Robin in his request, was willing to help him because she thought he was saving her from returning to her own kingdom and her mother’s control, but now she’s starting to realize just how foolish she’s been. Robin told her that he wants to dispose of his niece to secure the monarchical power he has long been denied. That doesn’t bother her. What bothers her, is that he’s been manipulating Regina this entire time to get as many _extra_ benefits out of her as he can – he’s been using her like his own personal plaything, and she’s been _letting him_ , stupidly under the impression that he feels something for her, that he thinks of this as an actual relationship, when he made it _very_ clear last night during their little Q&A that he has never considered it as such.

What hurts the most, though, is that his abuse of her trust feels _so similar_ to the way her mother used to use her. Cora shamelessly used Regina as a bargaining chip, a lure - whatever was needed to achieve her mother’s goals as Cora thirsted for more and more power. Regina sees now what a mistake she has made, sees that Robin has been using her as a weapon, as a threat, and much to her shame, his own personal bed warmer.

Regina sees now, with so much regret that it makes her heart hurt deep down in her chest, that she has effectively swapped one puppet master for another. She never saw it coming - she even went willingly.

She recognizes that she has traded her mother’s violent tantrums and conniving deceit for Robin’s raging outbursts and sexual manipulation – a trade so equal that she can barely see where the lines divide them. She was a fool to ever think that Robin will turn her loose once she has delivered on her promise to rid him of Snow White. He probably has Leopold’s magic key, is probably just waiting for the right opportunity to drag her back up to the westward tower - he certainly knows that she cannot escape it.

It is with bitter self-loathing that Regina admits that her mother was right that day in the corridor – Regina is a naïve, gullible, fool, and she’d have been better off going home. Because despite her mother’s many flaws, her abuse, her terrible parenting and downright torturous lessons, at least Regina knows that deep down, her mother loves her.

When she thinks back now, Regina realizes that although Robin said he would protect her, said he’d take her and run to the edge of the realm, he never really meant it. While at one point he had fooled her into thinking that he might put up a fight for her, that he might try to protect her or at least hide her away, she’s positive now that when Cora comes for her – because Cora absolutely _will_ come for her – Robin won’t put up a fight. He won’t even try.

He just doesn’t have it in him.

If he did, he would have actually tried to have stopped Leopold from having her. He’d have told her his plot for revenge on Snow and given her his side of the story. He’d have told her how he plans to keep Regina safe in his kingdom, and he might have even told her he loves her.

But he hasn’t done _any_ of those things.

She supposes that it’s her own fault for not seeing him for who he really is. It’s her mistake for accepting him as he presented himself to her - the carefree, kind, thoughtful man, _Robin the Hood_ , the man she thought she was in love with. She was fooled into thinking that the man he was when he was with her was his real self, and that this dark, manipulative side, _the Prince Regent_ , was the mask, but she had it completely backward all along.

Her mother always did tell her she was a stupid, idiotic girl, and Regina is starting to see why.

There has only been one person in her entire life that hasn’t manipulated her in some way, and that’s Regina’s father. People can say what they like about him – she knows they call him _The Weak King_ – but he is also the sweetest, kindest person she has ever known. He loves her unconditionally, has always loved her and has never used her like a piece of currency. She misses him, misses him dearly and wishes that she could speak with him, but her mother is paranoid and Regina knows without even trying that Cora has disenchanted every mirror in her castle, and Regina cannot teleport that far, so there is no way for her to speak with him long distance in a reasonable amount of time.

She wonders what fate would have had in store for her had a different king won her. If it had been Midas, she could have at least touched that hand of his and turned herself to gold, were she to grow desperate. Were it Richard, she’d have been left on her own almost constantly – everyone knows that man craves the thrill of war, so often at the forefront of the battle that he’s in his own kingdom less than a fortnight out of each year. Had it been George, she’d have been betrothed to the crown prince, James, and from what she’s seen of him, he has a gentle nature and a handsome face that mightn’t have been so bad to grow accustomed to.

Regina sighs. Leave it to her to tie herself to the murdering reject brother of the lecherous dead king she was originally sentenced to marry.

Robin holds his hands up in front of him as he approaches and says quietly, “Please don’t leave, I’d really like to speak with you.” It is apparent that he expects her to teleport away from him.

“Is that so?” she asks, straightening up in the overstuffed armchair she’s occupying as she closes her book. She’s wearing royal blue today, the month-long mourning of Leopold finally over, allowing her to magically revert the color of her gowns back to their original state. This one is a soft, light velvet that hugs her curves, sleeveless with a high, diamond trimmed collar that gives way to a narrow, deep vee neckline that shows off her chest. It’s one of her favorites – she looks good in it and she knows it.

She’s pulled her hair half up today, pinned in place with a large, sapphire barrette, leaving the long onyx strands wavy to hang loose down her back. She’s changed her makeup as of late, opting for a little darker shadow, a little more liner, swapping light pink lipsticks for deeper shades of red. She’s lost her innocence in _every_ way now, and she _feels_ like she has, _feels_ like those sweet colors - cream, pink, lavender, periwinkle - no longer suit her at all. No, now when she dresses, she finds herself reaching for gowns in the colors of violet, cobalt, scarlet, and especially on days she knows she’ll see Snow, jet black.

“I have business in the village today,” he says, coming to stand before her then crouching down so he’s looking up at her – a submissive position that she instantly recognizes as part of the apology he’s trying to make. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me, we could visit the apple trees, if you like?”

Regina tips her chin up in annoyance, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, even though she really does want to go see the trees. They’re familiar, they remind her of home, of her father, and she knows just walking amongst them in the warm summer air will make her feel better. But she doesn’t want to go if she has to go with Robin. She doesn’t want to do _anything_ with Robin. Not anymore.

“No, thank you,” she says, keeping her voice emotionless.

“Come now, darling, it’s been days and days since our spat. I know you’d like to see those trees,” Robin reaches for her hand, and she picks up her book to avoid him taking it. He frowns and drops onto his knees, settling back on his heels. “We could stop at the tavern for a bit, I’m sure John and Will would love to see you,” he tries.

“I have other plans today; I can’t spare the time.” Regina glances away from him as she says this, unable to look as his handsome face and the hurt in his beautiful blue eyes as he watches her. Why is _he_ hurt? _He’s_ the one who did this. _He’s_ the one with the hidden agenda. She clenches her teeth.

“Tonight then?” he asks hopefully.

“No.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No.”

Robin sighs loudly and rubs his hands over his face, before he asks quietly, concern evident in his voice, “What must I do to regain your favor?”

Regina studies him carefully, _so_ irritated that he’s playing the victim in this, that he’s giving her this look like she’s tearing his heart out when she’s the one who was tricked, she’s the one who got played.

She curls her lip and snaps, “You know exactly what you needed to do.” She uses the past-tense to refer to his withholding of information, and he immediately picks up on it, tilting his head in confusion like a puppy.

“And now? If that’s not what’s needed anymore, what now, my darling?”

“Nothing,” she says firmly, feeling her eyes burn with tears she refuses to let spill as she stares down at him. “Now, there is _nothing_.”

Robin looks like she’s just slapped his face again, like he’s completely shaken to his core with what she’s said. He must not have expected her to have a backbone, must not have expected her to be bright enough to realize what a fool he’s made of her, what a fool she’s made of herself.

“You can’t mean that,” he says quietly, trying to take her hand again and cringing when she pulls away once more. “Regina, you can’t be serious – we’re, we’re friends, we’re so much _more_ than friends. You told me that you loved me,” he shakes his head vigorously, then scowls. “You can’t seriously throw everything away because of one stupid story that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It’s not the story,” she says with forced calm, gripping her book so tightly the hardcover buckles a little. “I’ve finally opened my eyes. I’m admittedly late to the game, but I’ve finally realized what’s been going on here.” She’s trembling with her tightly restrained emotions, but he’s asked her for her explanation, and she’s going to give it to him.

“You’ve made a fool of me,” she pauses, takes a deep, shaking breath, dropping her voice low. “You’ve made a whore of me.”

She has to take a moment, her chest tight, her tongue feels thick and it’s hard to swallow. “And I let you do it, I probably even encouraged it. I let you take advantage of me and I deserve what I got.” Robin has tears in his eyes, and he’s shaking his head back and forth, as if making the motion of ‘no’ will make it so.

“Wait, please calm down,” he rasps, “I haven’t taken advantage of you, I know you don’t understand, I know you’re upset with me but you have to believe me, that isn’t what this is. Please, just give me a chance to show you that this is just a misunderstanding. Give me a chance to make this up to you.”

“How? With apples? With chess?” she asks dryly. “Or did you mean by fucking me? By shoving yourself into every possible place of my body, regardless of my opinion on the matter, luring me with promises of honesty and openness, then reneging on our agreement once you’ve gotten what you wanted?” Her temper is rising now, taking over where hurt had been in control before.

Robin’s eyes go wide at her words, his hands flailing in front of him as he utters a broken, “What?! Come now, it's _not_ like that _,_ you know it wasn’t like that, darling. Regina, you agreed to try it, you know that I would _never_ -”

“But you did!” she snaps, losing her temper. “You did! You _promised_ me, you _agreed_ \- no pain and no tricks, just straight answers, and the _second_ you got your release, not only did it _hurt,_ but to add insult to injury, you double-crossed me and _you know it_.”

He stares back at her for a second, then breaks eye contact, and to her disbelief he mutters, “I mean, soreness afterward should’ve been expected, I wasn’t really including that in the deal…” He rubs the back of his neck, then says, “Look, I’m sorry about that, I probably should’ve warned you, so I’ll own that. But regarding your other point about your question - I didn’t trick you - we finished fucking before you finished asking it, so I didn’t break the terms of the deal.” He shrugs.

Regina feels like Robin has just dumped a bucket of icy river water over her head. She suddenly has nothing more to say to him. _Ever_.

“I realize that I have lost all of your respect,” she says quietly, quickly - she has to get this out before she breaks. “I’ve lost all respect for myself as well.” She tries to take a breath but can’t, her chest feels tight, she feels broken inside. “From this moment on, I want _nothing_ more to do with you. _Nothing_ , understand? Whatever this was? It’s done. Ended. Over.”

“No,” he immediately protests, “No, Regina, _please_ -”

“I may have been a fool, but I still have my honor,” she cuts him off, “So don’t worry, _Your Regency_ , I’ll uphold my end of our arrangement. As agreed, I’ll take care of Snow White for you in whatever way you dream up. I’ll do _exactly_ what I agreed to do.”

She stands, clutching her book tightly to her chest. “And then we shall see if you have any honor left in _you_ , husband.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, Regina waits until she knows for sure that Robin has returned from whatever business he had in the village, not wanting to accidentally cross paths with him, but unable to resist the temptation of visiting the apple trees now that the idea is in her head. She’s astride Rocinante, who is in a particularly good mood today, judging by the way he didn’t try to bite her when she saddled him, and she’s glad that this is the horse she’s ended up with. He’s spirited, fast, and athletic, everything she could want in a good mount, and nobody complains when she takes him out, on account of his surly attitude.

She’s surprised at how well she remembers the way to the apple trees, since she only visited them the one time, but the village nearest the castle isn’t very big, and she knows the trees are on the western edge, so she directs Rocinante along the well-worn roads until she finally sets eyes on them. No one is around when she arrives, so she leaves her horse to graze and takes her time, walking around and around each tree, studying it, mentally noting each variety, the health of the tree, whether it needs pruning or not, and if any branches are cracked that need extra support. It’s not an activity she _needs_ to do, but it’s one that takes her mind off of things, one that makes life seem simple, and she plucks an apple from both the Golden and Red Delicious trees, leaving the Granny Smith’s untouched – she positively _hates_ those.

Regina spreads out the little blanket she brought with her and takes out her grimoire, flipping casually through the pages as she chomps on her Golden Delicious apple. She needs to occupy her mind, to get her thoughts off all the stupid mistakes she’s made, to bury herself in the elvish writing as she saturates her mind and magic with new, exceptionally complicated tasks that are sure to take up every ounce of her concentration.

Which is exactly why she doesn’t notice that she has company.

It’s movement that catches her eye, a flash of red in her periphery that alerts her to the presence of another person, but she keeps her head down, hoping they’ll go away, not wanting to interact with anyone else.

It’s a few minutes of sweet silence before she hears, “Roni?”

At first, Regina doesn’t respond, having forgotten her pseudonym from those weeks ago, but when the person, a woman, calls again, “Hey, Roni, is that you?” Regina reluctantly lifts her head in acknowledgment.

It’s the server girl from the tavern, Ruby, the one Regina was so jealous of before Robin sold her the story about her being more like a cousin, a cousin who only dates women. Regina wonders now if any of that was true, or if Robin made it up just to cover his ass.

“Hello,” Regina drawls, looking Ruby up and down carefully. The other woman is dressed simply - thigh-high leather boots with pants underneath, a soft looking white shirt, and a threadbare red cloak over the top. Regina’s outfit is positively regal in comparison; an elegantly embroidered black and crimson riding jacket with puffed sleeves, black pants and shirt beneath, high-heeled over-the-knee boots that are freshly polished and her hair braided and twisted up prettily, diamonds glittering in her ears. “I’m sorry, but my name is Regina, not Roni,” she corrects.

Ruby flashes her a grin, and Regina immediately concedes that she has a beautiful smile. “Well, I know we weren’t properly introduced that night Will got you drunk off your ass in the tavern, but I know you as Roni, and Roni sure seems like a good time.” Regina can’t help but blush as Ruby shrugs and asks, “So if it’s alright, maybe we can stick with that for now?”

“I suppose that’s alright,” Regina agrees, marking her page in her grimoire.

“Oh,” Ruby notices the action and smiles prettily, “I’m interrupting, I’ll leave you to it.”

The other woman starts to leave, and Regina doesn’t stop her. She’s not interested in conversation, especially with someone who is so close to Robin, someone who undoubtedly sympathizes with him over a history that Regina has been vehemently denied.

Regina has just gone back to her spellbook, when Ruby calls, “Hey, Roci!” and heads straight for Regina’s horse.

“I wouldn’t get too close,” Regina warns, “He likes to bite.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Ruby says, completely unconcerned. “He won’t bite me, he knows better.” Ruby turns back to the horse, scratching his cheek with her long fingernails. “Don’t you Roci-noci, you won’t bite me will you? Cause you know I’ll bite back, yes I will, ohhh you’re such a good boy.” Ruby makes several other cooing noises to the horse, and Regina suddenly knows where Robin gets it from.

Regina takes a moment to study Ruby as the other woman feeds her horse an apple, completely bite-free, all the while calling him by name. There is something odd about her… Regina lets her magic reach out and _oh,_ now that’s interesting. There is magic in Ruby’s aura - _dark_ magic.

“I see you two have a prior relationship,” Regina remarks.

Ruby nods, “Roci was supposed to be my cousin Marian’s horse.”

“Supposed to be?” Regina prompts, curious.

Ruby strokes lovingly down Rocinante’s thick neck as she tells her, “Yeah, he was brought all the way from Arendelle, just for her, but Marian died before she ever set eyes on him.”

“Oh,” Regina furrows her brow. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I ask what he’s doing in the royal stables?”

Ruby looks to Regina and tilts her head, studying her. The other woman’s green eyes are sharp and calculating as she looks her over with such intensity that it makes the hair on the back of Regina’s neck stand on end. After a few seconds though, Ruby’s features change from confusion to sadness, and she tells her, “Well, since Marian was Robin’s fiancé, and he’s the one who bought him, he was entitled to keep Roci. Considering the state Robin was in after Marian’s death, none of us had the heart to object.” Ruby pauses and gives her a penetrating look. “It’s a strange thing though, I’ve never seen anyone else except Robin ride him; Roci throws anyone who even tries. Even me.”

Regina’s stomach drops, her heart stops beating, and all the blood rushes from her head to her feet.

Robin had a fiancé? A fiancé that died? And this horse, _Regina’s_ horse, was supposed to be Robin’s _fiancé’s_ horse? Oh god. Regina says nothing, but Ruby’s brow is furrowed as if she can see her discomfort.

“So, you and Robin,” Ruby probes, “Granny said that you’re married, and I can see since you’re wearing his signet ring that it’s true.”

“Is there a question in there?” Regina asks, suddenly annoyed with the other woman.

“Are you two together then, as a couple? Or is it all just for politics?” Ruby walks over to Regina and sits down on the blanket across from her, totally uninvited. Regina bristles.

“No, we’re not together,” she says honestly, then adds _less_ honestly, “It’s all politics.”

“Good,” Ruby nods, tracing the pattern on the soft wool blanket.

Regina is offended, and her face must show it, because Ruby is quick to correct herself.

“Oh it’s nothing against you!” she reassures. “I just worry about Robin. You see, when Marian died, we all felt it deeply. Granny was devastated, I went numb, John drank himself stupid and Will fought anyone and everyone within a five-mile radius, but Robin…” Ruby takes a deep breath and meets Regina’s eyes. “I don’t really know how to describe what happened to him. It’s not that he lost the will to live, it’s more like, he was trying to will himself to die.”

Regina tips her head to the side. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I mean, we’ve all known each other since we were kids – Robin, me, Marian, John and Will – and Robin, well, he fell in love with Marian the first day he saw her, and he’s loved her every day since.”

Ruby pauses, and Regina feels that twinge of jealousy in her belly again, that twinge that aches for Robin to want her in that way too, and she stubbornly tamps it down. She has to stop feeling like this, she’s only torturing herself with these ridiculous fantasies.

“So you see, when she died, it’s like, it’s like that spark that drives you, the one that gets you out of bed every day, the one that tells you to take another breath, to eat, to drink, to think? It’s like when Marian died, Robin’s spark died with her.”

“He was depressed,” Regina summarizes dryly, trying to detach herself, not wanting to sympathize with Robin. She hates him. _Hates_ him.

“You’re not getting it,” Ruby scolds, her tone sharp and defensive. “After John brought him down from the castle, Robin laid on the floor of Marian’s bedroom for sixteen days, Roni. He laid _face down_ , on the wooden plank floor, in the _dark_ for _sixteen_ days, refusing to let anyone help him. He wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t drink, he was already days away from having starved to death when John found him, so bad off that Granny had to force a tube down him to make him take water and broth while John and Will held his arms.”

There is a light summer breeze, and as it brushes across her skin, Regina realizes belatedly that there are tears on her cheeks. She swipes at them quickly, looking away from Ruby, not wanting the other woman to see how emotional she is about a man that she is _not_ in a relationship with.

“So, what happened?” Regina asks, her voice a little rough. “What turned him around?”

Ruby shrugs. “You’d have to ask Robin that, or maybe Granny.” Regina is irritated by her evasiveness, but then to her surprise, Ruby continues. “But one day, he walked out of that room on his own, with fresh ink in his arm, and he had this look in his eyes I have never seen before, and, once he was through with doing what he did, I’ve never seen it again.”

“Through with what?”

“You really don’t know, huh?” Ruby asks, studying Regina’s face again. “You know, at first I thought you were lying about not being with him, but god, if you don’t know any of this, you obviously don’t know him very well.”

“No, I don’t,” Regina mutters, despair shooting through her chest, her hands shaking as the reality sets in. Ruby doesn’t know just how right she is - Regina doesn’t know Robin _at all_.

“Well, I hope this doesn’t freak you out, but it is what it is, and everyone else knows anyway, so…” Ruby hesitates, picking at her red cloak for a second. “Robin avenged Marian’s death.”

“What?” That wasn’t quite what Regina expected, but then the pieces start clicking into place, and she asks quickly, “Wait, how did Marian die?”

Ruby gives her a knowing look and says, “She was sentenced to death for make-believe crimes against the crown. You see, the King couldn’t allow his insurance policy to marry a peasant, that would be positively _treasonous_.”

Horror washes through Regina as Ruby continues, her voice quiet, the bright sunny day almost offensive to the story Regina is being told. “When Leopold found out that Robin was planning to run away with Marian, that they were planning to get married, he sent his guards for her. They dragged her out of the tavern in the middle of the day, accused her of plotting against the monarchy, then ran her through, right in front of Robin, while four guards held him down.” Ruby pauses, sniffs, then looks back to Regina. “Robin tried to stop them but they had beaten him so, so badly – John and Will too – but Robin fought anyway, I was there - he did everything he could but, well, you know how the King was. There was never any chance of saving her.”

“The guards,” Regina says quietly, “Robin killed the guards, didn’t he?”

Ruby gives her a look that can only be described as smug. “He evened the score.”

“How did Leopold find out about them, about Robin and Marian?” Regina asks, already knowing the answer.

A look of pure hatred takes over Ruby’s face, her teeth bared in a snarl as she says, “Leopold knew about them for a long time actually - he must have separated them on dozens of occasions before that, but Robin always found a way around it, always fought his way back to Marian no matter what Leopold did to keep them apart. But the night before Marian was murdered, she brought a supply of ale to the castle - it was a full moon and Granny and I were… unable to make the usual delivery. Snow knew that Robin wasn’t allowed to see Marian, and she must have seen her on her way up to the castle, so she hid in the storeroom and eavesdropped, hidden in an empty barrel while they said goodnight. As soon as the coast was clear, I guess she ran and told her daddy about their plans.”

The two women are silent for a moment as the information sinks in. Now that Regina knows that Robin actually _does_ have the ability to fight for someone, that he can and will spend every ounce of strength and courage inside of him to fight for someone he loves, she has never felt worse about her relationship with him. Because it’s not that he doesn’t have it in him to fight for her, like she had originally thought - it’s that he _chooses not to_ , and oh god, considering her feelings for him, that hurts so, so much.

After another long minute of silences, Ruby gets up. “Well, I’d better get back. Granny asked me for these apples over an hour ago, I’m sure I’ll get a tongue lashing for taking so long, but you know, I think it might be worth it.”

“Oh?” Regina asks, curious in spite of her melancholy.

“Yeah,” Ruby smiles warmly. “Robin likes you, you know. He wouldn’t have brought you to the tavern if he didn’t.”

Regina grinds her teeth and looks past Ruby, wanting to argue, but not willing to give away her heartbreak.

“And hey, I’m really glad he’s married to someone he likes. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to love anyone the way he loved Marian. But it’s good that he doesn’t have to be alone either. Maybe you guys will even turn out to be friends, someday.”

Regina tries to smile, certain it looks more like the grimace it really is, but Ruby doesn’t seem to notice, skipping off quickly towards the forest, her red cloak flapping behind her as she calls, “See you later, Roni!”

 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty - The Bully Gets Punished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Violence and Torture

 

 

Chapter Twenty - The Bully Gets Punished

 

 

He’s fucked.

Of that, he’s sure.

Robin hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Regina in two days, but he knows she hasn’t left; he’s been told that she’s been taking Rocinante into the village each day, and he knows without asking that she’s spending her time in the little apple orchard. It’s her place of comfort, the only thing that is familiar to her in this kingdom, the place he once promised her that he’d make possible for her to visit every day, were it within his power.

Robin knows that he’s fucked everything over, and he should have known that Regina wouldn’t accept his bad behavior, that she would expect _more_ of him, that she would expect _better_ of him, but it’s just, well, he’s _not_ better. He really doesn’t get how she doesn’t understand that by now. Everybody else knows he’s a loser, it’s not his fault she’s too bloody stubborn to accept him for who he is.

All of the things she accused him of were at least partially true. He didn’t tell Regina about his past because that’s what it is, his _past,_ and he doesn’t understand why it matters. Why does she need to know why he killed those guards? What difference does it make? He can attest that she doesn’t need any of that information to help him get rid of Snow. Why isn’t it enough just to know he killed them?

As for the sex, Robin honestly didn’t think about the fact that she would be sore afterward – he was so concerned about not hurting her _during_ the activity, that he simply didn’t think about the aftermath, and for fuck’s sake, just because he’s more experienced than she is doesn’t mean that he has to be responsible for everything, does it? _Christ_.

But he honestly didn’t have malicious intentions when they were together. He never meant to hurt her, and he didn’t really mean to take advantage of her either, even though he realizes now that he did. Robin hates himself for it, hates that he’s hurt her, but he’s _so_ not surprised. It’s who he is, and what he does. He’s a born and bred opportunist, making the most out of every opportunity, because it’s usually the only opportunity he’s going to get.

Robin always knew that he would lose her – he knew from the second he felt that little flip in his stomach when she smiled at him, from the first time she laughed, from the way he babbled like an idiot in front of her. He _knew_ that this would happen. It’s just that he honestly didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and he definitely didn’t expect it to hurt so much. Because _bloody hell_ , it _really_ hurts.

When Regina told him they were _done_ , that they were _over_ , he felt that old familiar dread in his guts, that feeling like he’s going to cough up his heart, that’s he’s bleeding on the inside and his lungs are filling up so fast that he can’t do anything but drown in it. It’s the feeling he had right before Leopold murdered Marian, and Robin can’t believe that he’s feeling it _now_ , not when Marian was his whole world, and he can barely even call what he had with Regina a friendship, let alone a relationship. There must be something wrong with him, there _has to_ be, because there should be no similarities, there should be absolutely nothing alike in the way he feels about them - but there is, and it’s got him _shook-the-fuck-up_.

So, he’s at the tavern tonight, intent on drowning his sorrows in ale and whiskey, ready to greet his old friend ‘belligerence’ and see what kind of trouble he can into, because why not just _fuck it all_ if he can’t have Regina.

Robin has had exactly one shot, _one_ , and he’s just bringing his pint to his lips for a nice long swig of ale, when he is jerked right off his bench by his ear, backpedaling fast and spilling his drink all over himself as he just barely keeps his balance.

“Robin Alexander Balgair, what have you done?!” Granny scolds, hauling him to the storeroom, her grip positively punishing as he struggles to keep up, bent over like a complete tosser with no choice but to follow behind her.

“Bloody hell!” he whines, the pain sharp as she continues to pull before she slams the door behind him, then swats him _hard_ on the back of his head.

“I asked you a question, young man, Prince Regent or not, you’ll answer me, and you’ll answer me _now!_ ” Granny snaps.

Robin pales. He hasn’t been chastised like this by Granny in _years_. Has literally not heard this tone from her since she basically forced him to go on living, in spite of the fact that he absolutely did not want to.

“I, I, Whad’you mean?” he fumbles, confused, rubbing his ear.

“Ruby just told me that you’ve completely broken that poor girl’s heart. That you haven’t told her a thing about what happened with our dear Marian.” Granny looks positively irate, and Robin cringes as she continues to berate him. “How dare you disrespect my granddaughter’s memory?! How dare you disrespect the sanctity of marriage with lies of omission?! How dare you treat that girl like anything less than your better half?! You may have been raised with the peasants, but I taught you right from wrong, Robin, and you know very well that what you’ve done is _wrong!_ Explain yourself, young man, explain yourself _this instant!”_ She stomps her foot for good measure, and the sound makes him jump.

Oh, christ in hell, he is in serious trouble.

“I just, I didn’t tell her because, uh,” he stutters.

“Out with it boy!” Granny snaps, her face red, her eyes that freakish yellow color they get when the adrenaline rushes through her, a remnant of the dark magic that no longer causes her to shapeshift.

Robin throws up his hands. “Because it doesn’t matter!”

Granny looks at him like he’s grown three heads, and that’s it, he completely loses all control and finally just lets himself rant.

“It doesn’t _fucking_ matter!” he repeats. “I have one purpose – _one_ – as soon as Snow is dead, my purpose is complete and I’ll go back to being nothing, just like I always have been. Regina is, she’s just, she’s so, so -” Robin shakes his hands in front of him, searching for the right words. “She’s fucking incredible. She’s smart, and talented, and clever, and she has _so much_ potential. And she’s figured out that I’m not some sort of hero in disguise, that I’m not some lovely fellow who can give her the life that she deserves, that I can’t give her _anything_ , because I am _nothing_. I’m _nothing,_ and – oh don’t stand there and look at me like that, Granny, I’ve been nothing since he ran Marian through – and I’ll _be_ nothing until they put me in the ground next to her. Why on earth should I even try to give Regina _anything_ , when we all know the best I can give her is _nothing_?”

“You foolish boy,” Granny shakes her head, “You think we all only have one purpose in this life? You think it’s one and done? My god, if that were the case we’d all be dead by the time we were twenty.”

Robin opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure of what to say.

“And don’t you dare say you’re nothing, Robin Alexander. Your whole life you’ve been content to sit back like a bump on a pickle and let the world pass you by. Even when you were with my Marian, no one ever asked anything of you, and you were happy as a clam to let things stay that way,” Granny gives him a knowing look. “Now, I’m not saying that if Marian hadn’t been killed that that wouldn’t have suited you fine. But that’s _not_ how it all worked out. And what I do know for sure, is that ever since you laid eyes on this Regina, you’ve suddenly decided that you’re no longer content to sit back. Suddenly you’re asking Marco for tips at how to win at chess, suddenly you’re asking Merida for horseback riding lessons, and good lord, the next thing I know, you’re taking on _the Regency_ when you know you could have relinquished it to any number of other legitimate candidates. Robin – you have never been _more_ , than during this little bit of time you have been head over heels in love with that girl.” Granny ends her own rant on a huff, her hands on her hips, cheeks flushed, her glasses balanced precariously on the tip of her nose, as she stares down Robin in the dim light of the storeroom.

“Well I’ve gone and ruined it, so what’s it matter now?” Robin says quietly, his eyes burning with despair. “She’s ended it, she said she wants nothing to do with me. I tried to apologize but she said she’s done, that I’ve done terrible things to her and she’s going to help me get rid of Snow like we agreed, but then she’s done.”

“Have you?” Granny asks, “Have you done terrible things to her?”

Robin looks heavenward, wishing he had a better answer. “Yeah, I’ve used her, manipulated her. Granny, she’s never going to trust me again.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Granny scolds. “Never is such a finite word. You’re terrible at apologies, Robin, unpracticed. So try it again, and if you still don’t get it right, then _try again_. And _again_. Until you finally do get it right. And if she won’t have you after that, then at least you can say you did your best. Can you honestly say that now?”

Robin shakes his head no, because he can’t say that - he didn’t try his best, he didn’t really try at all.

“Well?” Granny asks.

“Well, what?”

“What’re you still doing here?” she prompts, “Go and apologize before you screw it up further. Time is of the essence in these things you know!”

Robin turns to make his escape, and Granny snaps him with her dishrag on the way out, leaving a welt on his backside that he’s certain is going to bruise. _Christ_ , he knew he wouldn’t escape unscathed, but he’s oddly grateful for it anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The corridor is dimly lit as Regina walks back to her room from the library. She’s just found a new grimoire to study, one that was covered in dust, stuffed way in the back on the very highest shelf, behind several old tomes that had obviously not been moved in years, and for the first time in days she’s excited about something. Perhaps this spellbook will give her an idea on how to get rid of Snow White, so she can finally leave this place that has come to feel more and more like the prison she had initially thought it would be.

Robin calls her name as she rounds a corner, but Regina keeps moving. She’s made it very clear to him that they’re done – she has nothing to say to him and she has no interest in whatever it is he wants.

“Regina, wait!” he calls again, and she hears his footsteps accelerate behind her.

She’s about to teleport to her room when he adds, “Please, I’m begging you, just let me explain - just give me five minutes to explain,” she reluctantly stops, turns, and waits for him to approach. Regina is so tired of this, so tired of fighting him, so she gives in and decides to let him say his piece, to get this over with, so they can both move forward with their lives.

He’s dressed like a peasant and smells strongly of ale when he gets to her, stepping in close like he used to, barely a step away, and Regina wrinkles her nose at the stench, irritated that he’s obviously just come from the tavern, wondering just how much he’s had to drink to reek so terribly. “Well?” she prompts, as he runs his eyes over her.

“You look stunning this evening,” he compliments, reaching out to tuck her long bangs behind her ear, but she takes a step back so she’s out of reach, and he sighs heavily as he lets his hand fall to his side. Regina’s in knee-high boots, black pants, and a long red velvet jacket this evening - it has frilly lace cuffs and sharp, pointed lapels with a lace overlay across the deep vee of the chest, and she’s accented it with a black choker, twisted her hair back prettily and tucked it up all around, and swept her bangs to the side. She feels both powerful and feminine in this outfit, which is a nice change from the lost idiotic child she’s felt like so much lately.

“You were right, and I’m sorry,” Robin says quickly, “I’m so sorry. I admit it, I did take advantage of you - you have a knack for being right, you know,” he tries to smirk but it doesn’t quite make his eyes. “But it’s not like I ever planned it that way, I didn’t set you up on purpose, I never had some devious plan to gain your allegiance. I mean, _christ_ , you know there’s no way I’d have been capable of that - I was so enamored with you when we first met that I could barely string two coherent sentences together, the best I can do even now, is maybe four.” He smiles shyly at her, but she’s not buying it, he still hasn’t told her about his dead fiance, or about murdering the guards - he’s deflecting, and she will _not_ be fooled by his easy charm this time.

Robin must notice she’s not falling for it, because he schools his features into seriousness and continues, “Honestly, darling, I’ve been living with what happened, with this hanging over my head for so long, but then I met you and it was like my slate was suddenly wiped clean again, and I didn’t want that to change. I wanted things with you to stay the way they were. You made me feel so incredible, so alive and so happy all the time, and –”

“What is the point of this?” Regina cuts in, her heart pounding fast at his apology. She doesn’t want to hear more of his lies. Especially not now. Now that she knows about Marian, about the love of his life, about the way he fought tooth and nail for Marian and the way he hasn’t fought _at all_ for her.

“Well it… I mean… Regina, it doesn’t have to be like this. _We_ don’t have to be like this. If you’ll just give me another chance, if you’ll just let me explain -”

“Now you want to explain?” she cuts him off again, her temper hot. “Fine. Tell me then, Prince Regent, did you marry me specifically so you could use me to terrify Snow White and avenge your murdered fiancé?”

Robin’s eyes widen; clearly, he hadn’t known that she now knows the full story. A few seconds pass, and he says quietly, “I, well, I suppose… yes that was -”

“Are you still in love with her?” She cuts him off quickly, her chest hurts, her pulse pounds in her ears as she studies his face, she doesn’t know how much more heartbreak she can take.

Robin’s jaw clenches, and his eyes look red as he holds her gaze and grits out, “I will always love her.”

She nods and braces herself, there is only one other thing she needs to know. Her voice is barely more than a rasping whisper as she asks him, “Do you love _me_?”

He stares at her for a moment, then rubs his hands over his face. When several seconds turn into minutes, and he still doesn’t say anything, Regina feels sick. She feels like she might faint.

Nodding in defeat, knowing now that his answer is ‘no’, Regina starts to turn away so she can go lick her wounds in the privacy of her room. She takes a determined step in the opposite direction, but then his hand is on her arm and he’s jerking her back around fast, saying, “Wait Regina, _fuck_ , _wait!_ ” as he yanks her to him and crashes his lips against hers while wrapping his arms low around her hips to pick her up, then he surges forward until her back connects roughly with the wall, and he pins her against it, pressing against her desperately, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

Regina keeps telling him _No_ between kisses, her voice high-pitched, almost a sob, but she’s also not stopping - she’s doing that _thing_ again, where she keeps contradicting herself, and she hates herself for it, for wanting him and wanting to shove him away at the same time. She sucks on his top lip, says, “ _No_ ,” tilts her head as she slides her tongue into his mouth to stroke along his, _“No,”_ nips his bottom lip and lets her teeth drag along it, “ _No,”_ before sucking soothingly on it again, _“No.”_

God, this is so unfair – it’s so unfair to him, it’s so unfair to her, but she can’t stop doing it, can’t stop no matter how hard she tries - _god_ , she’s such a mess. She’s crying as she kisses him, can feel the hot tears spilling over and doesn’t even try to stop them, no longer able to contain her pain.

Robin moves to kiss her cheek, whispering, “Don’t cry, darling, don’t cry – I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry,” then kisses the hinge of her jaw, sucks softly on her earlobe, and works his way along the edge of her chin. It feels so good – she’s missed this, she’s missed _him_ , and she could easily get lost in this, could let him take her right here in the corridor. Regina can feel his hardness rubbing against her, she’s getting more turned on by the second, arousal replacing her heartache, and then he completely breaks the moment as he puts his lips to her ear and murmurs, “God, I’ve missed you so much, love.”

It’s his completely casual use of that word, of him calling her _love_ , that shocks her right out of it, that has her snarling, “Get away from me, don’t touch me!” She’s suddenly flailing against him, hitting and shoving at him violently until he sets her down and takes a few steps back, his hands up in surrender in front of him as her magic flares purple across her skin in defense.

“What?!” Robin asks, “What’d I do?”

“Don’t call me that, _ever_. Don’t you dare. Not _ever_ again,” she snaps, panting, trying to collect herself as various emotions wage war inside of her – hurt, anger, fear, despair. There is fire in her palms and she has to shake her hands to put it out.

“What? Don’t call you what?”

Regina just glares silently at Robin while he thinks through what he said, watching with irritation as the realization finally comes over him, and he mutters, “Oh, fuck.”

The sound of girlish laughter floats down the corridor, and footsteps draw nearer and nearer as Robin and Regina continue to stare at each other, caught in a stalemate, their discussion far from over.

Robin is first to break eye contact, and she knows from the look on his face, paired with the obnoxious noises coming closer still, that it’s Snow White and her usual entourage of idiot ladies-in-waiting. As if this moment could get any worse.

“Oh!” Snow says loudly, still laughing as she, along with four other young women, draw closer. “Look girls, it seems we’re interrupting a moment of marital bliss,” she smirks, looking Regina up and down.

Regina knows her eye makeup must be a runny mess, her eyes puffy and red from her tears, lips swollen and lipstick smeared, but she can’t find the will to care right now.

Snow draws closer to Regina, until she’s well within arm’s reach, tips up her chin arrogantly and says, “Well, sweetie, you certainly can’t say I didn’t warn you this would happen.” The condescension is so thick in Snow’s tone that fury immediately rises inside of Regina. God, she hates this brat. “I bet you wish my daddy was still alive now, don’t you?”

And oh, the smug look on Snow’s face just about pushes her over the edge. Regina is this close, _this close_ , to finally putting her in her place, once and for all, when she feels Robin’s hand in hers, tugging her back.

Robin says quietly to her, “Come on, don’t let her get to you. Let’s go finish our discussion somewhere more private, love.”

Anger flares inside of her. “Are you kidding me?!” she snaps, rounding on him and snatching her hand away. “Have you heard _nothing_ I’ve said?!”

Robin cringes but tries anyway, “ _Christ_ , I’m sorry - _I’m sorry_ Regina, I know you’re upset, I know I’ve hurt you, but please, let’s just go somewhere and talk for a bit. _Please._ ”

He’s right, she knows he’s right – she’s so upset and she’s not thinking straight, she’s livid and she needs to calm down before she does something else that she regrets. Her chest feels tight with anxiety - she feels like she’s losing control - so Regina nods, and when Robin holds out his hand to her again, she takes it.

They get exactly two steps away when Snow warns, “Don’t forget that my offer expires soon, witch, and if you don’t make the right choice, I’ll have you put down like the freak you are, right along with that hideous, fire-breathing lizard you dare to call _teacher_.”

Regina sees red.

She turns fast – unnaturally, magically fast – and shoves Snow hard. The girl flies backward, a look of complete shock on her face as she bowls into two of the girls who, a mere second ago, were laughing disdainfully, but are now falling down like dominos under the violent momentum of Snow. Regina is done playing, she’s done fucking around with Snow White. She’s a selfish, spiteful girl - she’s pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and she’s finally gone too far – so now, Regina doesn’t care about being the bigger person anymore, she doesn’t care about right and wrong. This entire Locksley family is full of awful, terrible people - Regina wants Snow to pay for all the nasty things she’s done, wants Snow to pay for insulting her over and over, and never having to answer for being a bullying little bitch.

Regina only needs a few seconds to do this, she needs just three fucking seconds to teach Snow White a lesson she will never forget, a lesson she will never _be able_ to forget. Just as Snow is starting to sit up, Regina lunges for her like a lioness, tackling her to the ground and punching her right in the face with a full right hook as her ladies in waiting scream and start scurrying away from the pair of them.

“No, Regina!” Robin yells, “You can’t kill her, not now!” Regina feels a tugging at her waist, and she’s lifted off of Snow by a pair of strong arms, but _no_ , she’s not having that – she lights up her skin in that electric energy and Robin – she knows without looking that it’s him – he drops his hold on her and starts uttering profanities in pain as she dives for Snow once more, punching her again in her stupid face as she crawls back on top of her, straddling her, pinning Snow’s arms down with her legs while she sits on her chest.

“I’m not going to kill her,” Regina snarls, “I’m going to _punish her_.” She calls up the elvish words to her selected dark curse as she starts making the intricate motions with her hands, and Snow squeals in fear.

“Call me a freak, will you?” Regina challenges when she hits a pause in the words of the curse, her hands moving fast, making the appropriate signs and glyphs over Snow’s arm. “You dare to threaten my life and insult my friend?” Regina is snarling, her voice low and menacing, speaking right in Snow’s stupid round face. She can feel the vein in her forehead popping out, and she feeds on the darkness that courses through her veins as she starts to cast the final stages of her curse. “Why don’t I show you just how _freakish,_ just how _threatening_ I can be?”

Regina chants fast, dropping her face low to Snow’s so she can stare into the younger woman’s eyes as the dark magic starts to ignite in her fingertips. She sees nothing but fear, nothing but _terror_ reflected back at her. It figures the girl would turn out to be a damn coward.

Regina lets an evil smile spread across her face as she threatens Snow with all the fury she has inside of her. “And since you were so kind as to bring up fire and scales, it’s fire and scales I’ll give you, as a reminder of the mistake you’ve made today, my dear, a mistake I am certain you will never make again.”

Snow’s eyes widen as Regina sits up, the fingers of her left hand glowing an ugly, sickly green, and she shifts quickly, moving her leg so she can grab Snow tightly by the forearm.

And then, to her complete satisfaction, Snow White starts to scream.

She howls loudly, frantically, completely panicked. She thrashes, she cries, she shrieks like she’s on fire.

Because, well, because Snow pretty much _is_ on fire.

The dark curse spreads from Regina’s glowing fingertips into Snow’s arm, the magic branding individual, intricately detailed dark green scales into her skin, each one no bigger than the size of a fingernail, all the way up to Snow’s shoulder, and all the way down to each fingertip. It’s deeply rewarding to watch as each viridescent scale slowly forms and misshapes her skin, interweaving with the scales around it just like a real reptile’s scales do, while Snow loses her mind with pain and terror, and her ladies wail with fear. Regina waits patiently for the transformation to conclude, holding Snow down without too much trouble, her magic making her stronger than a normal human, her thoughts drifting, briefly wondering what Robin is doing before she promptly decides that she really doesn’t care.

Once Snow’s entire arm is covered with the hideous, spiky scales, Regina releases the appendage and sits back on Snow’s chest for a moment, breathing quickly, ever so slightly winded from the amount of magical energy she’s just spent. She’s never used quite so much dark magic before, and it’s exhilarating - it courses through her veins like a drug, her heart rate way above normal, her blood thrumming, her skin buzzing in a way that feels positively incredible.

Regina grabs Snow by her chin, jerking her head to the side so she can evaluate the dark bruising she created when she punched the girl. She leans down slowly, then brings her full lips to Snow’s cheek in a kiss, pressing softly at first, then harder, harder, _harder_ , as Snow whines and struggles under her. Finally, Regina pulls back with a loud smack of her lips, a perfect, bright red lipstick kiss left on Snow’s blue and purple cheek, and the image is so gratifying that Regina smiles, then starts to laugh as she pats Snow’s other cheek and stands.

When she turns, she sees that Robin is leaning against the far wall, looking at her strangely, but she ignores him, focusing on Snow instead as all four of her ladies scatter, running off like cockroaches in all directions down the corridor, positively terrified of Regina and of Snow’s new lizard-like arm. Snow stares at the offending appendage, huge tears in her eyes, then looks stupidly to Regina as if to ask for help, and all Regina can do is laugh as she says, “It’s probably best you scurry along now, little lizard, before your blood runs cold.”

Snow bursts into tears and promptly flees, her sobs fading out quickly as she sprints down the long hallway, and Regina takes in a deep breath, the first it feels like she’s taken in weeks.

 

 


	23. Chapter Twenty-One - The New Purpose

 

 

Chapter Twenty-One - The New Purpose

 

 

Robin feels the invisible pull on the lapels of his leather jerkin before he realizes what’s happening, and the next thing he knows, he’s being swiftly dragged across the corridor by his shirt with absolutely no way to resist, until he’s standing right in front of Regina. She wraps her long feminine fingers punishingly tight around his jaw, as she narrows her almond eyes at him - her eyes so dark they look black - her full red lips wet and slightly parted, her breaths quick, making her chest rise and fall mere inches from his as she looks him over.

If he hadn’t just seen everything that had transpired with Snow, if he hadn’t been here to break her heart just before she beat the snot out of the other girl then turned her into some sort of reptilian-handed twat, he would swear this wasn’t Regina. He’d swear this was her sister, an evil, darker version of the woman he knows, of the woman that, even though he stupidly didn’t say it, he very much loves. But he’s not going to lie – he kind of likes the version in front of him too. She’s… well… she’s sexy as hell.

Regina slides her hand slowly from his chin to his throat, her grip tight, nails biting as she steps into him, her tits pressing against his chest while she licks her lips. Robin’s heart races with anticipation - she’s so gorgeous - and he’s bloody impressed with the way she’s just handled Snow White, with the way she’s just wielded her magic and made it look so effortless. She’s incredibly talented, _christ_ , he had no idea she had that kind of power in her, he had no idea she had that kind of _temper_ in her.

It occurs to him that he is lucky as fuck that she hasn’t done something similar to him for all of his transgressions against her, unless… unless that’s what she’s planning to do right now. A little shiver of fear runs down his spine, and it’s ironic that he can go so quickly from being afraid of how badly he’s hurt her, to being afraid of how badly she’s about to hurt him.

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he rasps, her grip tight around his throat, making it hard to speak, hard to breathe.

Regina hums in response, the low, throaty sound makes his stomach drop out, makes his hands itch to touch her, and he places them tentatively on her hips.

Regina slides the hand not on his throat down his chest, over his abs, and he feels her skirt her fingers along the waistline of his pants. God, does she know what’s she’s doing to him with this? Not ten minutes ago she was telling him no, but now, _fuck_ , now she’s – _what the?_ – she’s – _ow!_ – biting his bottom lip hard as she, wait – _ohhh, fuck yeah_ \- slides her whole hand right down the front of his trousers to cup him over his underwear.

“Take your hands off of me,” she commands, her voice serious and rough, and Robin reluctantly drops his hands from her. “You will not touch me again unless I tell you to. You will not speak unless I tell you to. You will not so much as whisper my name, do you understand?”

Robin nods and swallows thickly. He has no idea what the fuck is going on, but his cock is half hard, and whatever this is, he’s into it.

“I’m hot,” she tells him, her voice a sexy low rasp, her lips brushing his as she rubs his length through the thin fabric, the fingers around his throat stroking softly for a moment. “I’m hot everywhere. My pulse is racing, there is dark magic lingering in my blood, everything feels so _sensitive_ right now. I want… I want…” Regina squeezes his cock and he barely catches himself before he reaches for her again.

Robin knows what she wants – she wants him to get her off, that much is clear. But she’s obviously, and rightfully still angry with him, and she’s seeking control because she still thinks that he doesn’t love her, and with her little rules in place, he can’t do much about that right now.

“Do you want to fuck me, husband? If I were to allow it, would you be inside of me right now? Answer me with yes or no.”

Obediently, honestly, he tells her, “Yes.”

Regina pulls her hand from his groin and runs it up his chest again. “Then unbutton my pants and use your fingers to ready me,” she demands.

Holy fuck.

Robin quickly opens the buttons of her pants and slips his hand down the front, beneath her silky soft knickers, to rub her clit. She gasps a soft, _Oh!_ the second he touches her there, her hips jerking toward him, and he figures there must be something about her magic that really does have her extra sensitive, because when he slips his fingers further down, she’s already wet enough that he could probably slide his cock inside of her without much trouble. _Fuck,_ he’s excited, and _god_ , he doesn’t really understand what’s happening but he’s insanely grateful that it is.

Regina opens up her jacket and the little button up shirt beneath - exposing her beautiful breasts to him - while he rubs little circles on her clit, literally biting his tongue to keep from speaking. He loves talking during sex, loves telling her how gorgeous she is, how hot she’s making him, how he’s going to wreck her and make her come, and it’s torturous for him to have to be silent while he can feel her getting wetter, hotter, needier for release. He’s pretty sure she knows this, is confident that this is why she made the ‘no speaking’ rule to begin with. Robin stares longingly at her tits as he rubs his fingers through her slit, his cock rigid for her, his other hand flexing and releasing as he resists the urge to touch her.

Her voice is full of gravel when she speaks. “Make your mouth useful for once and suck,” she pauses to clear her throat, “Suck on my nipples.”

He wants to moan; he’s so unused to taking orders like this, can’t believe that his _wife_ – the same woman who once questioned him just for going down on her - is now bossing him around in the middle of the hallway with her tits out and her pants undone. Robin immediately brings his mouth to her, starts licking and teasing at the tips of her breasts, alternating between them, sucking and releasing to pull them into tight peaks, then flicking them as she arches and grinds down on the hand he has in her pants.

He latches onto her right nipple, suckling in a slow, pulsing rhythm, rubbing roughly with his tongue while he works his fingers against her clit at double the pace, then slips his middle finger further along her slick slit, thrusting it up into her _quick-quick, quick-quick, quick-quick_ , as she lets out a huff and he feels her fingers wrap around the back of his head.

He’s hard for her, fully erect without her even touching him anymore, and he wants her so badly, wonders vaguely what this all means and if he should stop them. But he misses her so much, misses this and misses being close to her, knows he’s fucked everything up and hopes that if he’s good right now, if he just does what she says that maybe he can earn a bit of her trust back, maybe she’ll decide she can give him another chance.

She holds him tightly against her chest then pulls his head to her other breast, her nails sharp in the flesh of the back of his neck as she directs him, and he sucks hard on her, teasing the pebbled tip, working it around and around with his tongue as he adds a second finger inside of her and starts to thrust them into her in earnest. His other hand dangles uselessly by his side, and he wants to grab her arse, or her waist, or her other breast; wants to run his fingers through her hair, wants to touch her face, stroke her neck – _fuck –_ he wants to touch her, wishes like hell he wasn’t such a fuck up and hadn’t lost that privilege.

She starts moving her hips against him, starts rocking quickly as she arches her back, both hands raking through his hair then pulling his head up so she can kiss him, and they lose themselves for a minute. He’s certain she’s forgotten how angry she is, because she’s kissing him like she used to, sucking at his lips, her mouth soft and desperate as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck and presses her body against his. Robin slips his fingers out of her and works her clit fast, the little bud swollen and hard under the pads of his fingers, her slickness making it difficult to get much friction so he just presses three fingers flat against her and works them side to side as rapidly as possible. It seems to work, she makes this hot, drawn out, _Ahhhmmm_ into his mouth, presses her forehead to his then tells him, “Oh, _oh god_ , feels so good, _just like that_.”

Robin kisses her deeply, his tongue stroking hers as he wraps his free arm tightly around her waist, working her clit faster, _faster_ , then pulls back to kiss her neck as he tells her, “Yeah, that’s my girl, you’ve drenched those knickers for me, can’t wait to feel you come, _christ_.”

The slap of her hand as she claps it across his mouth is fast, sharp, and painful. He’d forgotten the rules of the game they’re playing, had forgotten he’s not supposed to touch her or talk to her, and the force of her palm as she lays it across his lips is unnaturally strong, fueled by that dark magic that’s turning her on and igniting this anger that raging through her. She grabs him by the face and forces him down onto his knees before her, her dark eyes flashing as she growls, “What did I say?”

Robin nods under her palm, breathing heavily through his nose, one hand still awkwardly down her pants but the other raised in surrender. Her eyes flicker to his raised hand, a dark look crosses her, her free hand moves in a swift motion and the next thing he knows, both of his arms are pulled back and pinned behind him by an invisible force. He fights it, but he’s unable to move them at all – she’s got his arms locked down tight against the small of his back, and when he looks to her she’s giving him this smug little smirk.

“I’d seal your lips together, but I have better ways to shut you up,” she snaps, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward, forcing him to shuffle quickly on his knees as she backs herself toward the nearest wall. When they reach it, she pulls off one boot, then shimmies her tight pants down and pulls them off of one leg, leaving her tiny, drenched satin knickers in place. She tugs him right up close to her, hikes her bare leg over his shoulder, digs her stockinged heel into his back, and when he licks his lips in anticipation, she mocks, “There - you finally have the right idea.”

Robin is aching for her. He’s painfully hard, straining against the fly of his trousers, praying that she’s going to give him relief at some point, that this sinful version of his wife will take mercy on him and at least let him touch _himself_ for christ’s sake. Regina’s bloody gorgeous, undeniably sexy, she’s taking what she wants and completely unapologetic about it, and it’s such a sharp contrast to what their relationship has been up to this point, that while his head is confused as hell, his cock sure isn’t.

He steals a glance up at her and immediately regrets it – her naked tits are so perfect, so round and plump with that natural perk, her little nipples erect and extra reddened from his attention, her smooth, lean stomach untouched by his hands tonight – he’d give anything to be allowed to run his tongue along the planes of it – and god-fucking-damnit she’s so hot, he cannot believe he’s fucked this up with her. He didn’t know she had this side to her, didn’t know that while there was innocence, there was also this darkness in her, a darkness that might even match his own, and he realizes suddenly that he’ll do anything, _anything_ , for her forgiveness. So, when she pulls those soaked knickers to the side and bares herself to him, he brings his mouth to her with zero hesitation, completely intent on giving her every single ounce of pleasure he can, wanting more than anything to prove his worth to her.

He strokes his tongue through her slit, tasting her, flattening his tongue to rub against her clit as she lets her knee fall to the side, opening her thighs wider. Robin shuffles awkwardly closer, pressing his face against her mound, trying to encourage her to lean back against the wall, and when she does, it tips her pelvis up to him, allowing him to lick and play with her lips, sucking softly on the outer, then the inner, trying not to smile with satisfaction as her fingers return to thread through his hair. It takes mere seconds get her worked up again, she’s already so needy from his fingers and the adrenaline of her magic that she’s shaking above him. He wishes she’d let him top her, wishes she’d let him pick her up and fuck her against the wall, but _christ_ , apparently that’s not what she wants, so he eats her hot little cunt with every bit of enthusiasm he has in him, works his tongue up and down her slit in patterns and alternates sucking and flicking motions all over her as she starts to make those desperate little huffs and gasps above him. She works herself against his face, and Robin struggles against his magical bonds, becoming more and more frustrated with his confinement, wanting to touch her, to drive into her, to fuck her deep and watch her slick need coat his fingers, or _god_ , perhaps his cock. But he’s not allowed to ask her for that, he’s not allowed to ask her anything, and he swears when they are through with this little scenario, if she takes him back, he’s never going to fuck up this relationship ever again.

Regina’s thighs are trembling, her fingers tight and twisting in his hair – she’s close to her release and he wants her to come – wants to bring her pleasure, but knows if she’ll let him get inside her in _some_ way, that she’ll come harder, she’ll come better than she will if he just eats her out. He doesn’t know how to tell her that without speaking to her though, so he slows down on her clit, even though she whines a bit, and he sucks hot kisses along the crease between her hip and mound. “Don’t stop,” she commands, tugging on his hair, but he shakes his head _No_ , still pressing kisses in safer places – her outer lips, her inner thighs.

“ _More_ ,” she snaps, but once again he resists, looking up at her and kissing her clit softly, not stimulating her enough to make her come, purposely trying to get her attention by licking along each side of it and nudging at her with his nose until she finally snaps, “Why not?!”

Robin pulls back and rushes out his argument quite breathlessly, “You’ll feel it more intensely if I’m inside of you – please, let me fill you in some way, at least my fingers, I’ll do it any way you want, but it’ll be better for you that way – I want to make it as good as possible for you. Please, _please_ let me, I beg of you.”

The narrowing of her eyes shows her mistrust of him for a moment, but then she nods, and he feels his arms release from his invisible bonds. He flexes his shoulders in relief, but doesn’t otherwise move, waiting for her to make the decision, not willing to assume anything when his favor with her is balanced so carefully on the edge of a knife.

“You’ve used me,” she accuses quietly, and from his position on his knees on the floor, Robin nods shamefully.

“You’ve abused my trust.”

He nods again.

“You want to make it up to me?” she drawls.

Robin nods enthusiastically.

“Get up then, and fuck me against this wall. Fuck me until I scream.”

Robin stares at her for a moment, stunned, then quickly gets to his feet. She reaches for him, unbuckles his belt and slips it through the clasp, then unbuttons his pants while his heart pounds frantically against his ribs, his hands at his sides, unsure of whether he’s allowed to touch her now or not. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to speak either, but he wants to tell her how proud he is of her for punishing Snow, how sorry he is for the pain he’s caused her, that he loves her, and that he’s a fucking idiot for not having said it the moment he met her. He can’t even remember what his reasons were for not having said it already. He opens his mouth to say all of these things but she beats him to it.

“You will not speak,” she tells him, leaning back against the wall.

Disappointed, Robin nods.

“You will not come inside of me.” Her eyes are narrowed and so, so dark.

He nods again.

“You will not stop until I come.”

Robin nods hard - meaning it more than any of the other promises he’s just made. She can bet her arse he’s not stopping - he has suddenly found his next purpose in life.

He meets her eyes and she nods, so he steps forward, shoving his trousers down a bit to rest low on his hips before pulling himself out. Robin works his rigid length with one hand for a few strokes as he stares at her tits and her soaked knickers, then sucks his middle finger into his mouth for one last taste of her for god knows how long, then realizes she doesn’t know how to fuck against the wall, because she’s never _been_ fucked against a wall, and he has to bite hard on his cheek to stop his shit eating grin from ruining everything.

Because if she wants him to fuck her until she screams, he knows just the position to make that happen.

He can’t tell her what he’s going to do - she’s banned him from talking her through it, so he moves fast, grabs for her hips and spins her around, jerking her off balance so that she throws her hands up against the stone wall by instinct to catch herself. Robin yanks her jacket down and off of her arms - those long coattails will be in his way - then wraps one arm firmly around her waist and kicks her feet apart. He spits on his palm, rubs it on the head of his cock, tugs her knickers to the side again, and finally - thank all the gods in all the realms - he _finally_ shoves his thick length up into her.

She cries out this breathy, “Ahh! _Mmm!_ ” as he slides in, and she’s so bloody-fucking-tight that he could die from the satisfaction of just being inside of her - _christ_ \- she’s so hot, so slick - _oh god_ \- he can never, ever give her up. That word _Mine_ starts bouncing around in his head again, just as he pulls back and thrusts in hard, and the way the air whooshes out of her when he goes deep nearly makes him break his vow of silence so he can say it, so he can swear it, so he can announce it to anyone who will listen - _mine.mine.mine.mine_. He thrusts slow for a few strokes, focusing on getting as far inside of her as he can, stretching her, bottoming out, wishing he had his trousers all the way off - fuck that would feel so bloody good - but he can’t stop now, not when he’s got her down to her knickers in the fucking hallway and she’s making these hot little moans with every stroke, her hands braced dutifully against the stones in front of her, her muscular shoulders flexed against her weight, her back arched as she presents her arse to him so he can drive deeper, so he can bury himself as far inside of her as humanly possible. He starts to speed up, and she’s such a good girl - always willing to take what he gives her, always gets so wet when he fucks her - gets dripping wet, obscenely wet, to the point that he knows he can make it run down her thighs, and someday he’s going to do that, he’s going to turn her on so much that her slick arousal is going to run all the way to her knees, it’s going to drip from her core right to the fucking floor before he’ll let her come, and then he’s going to fill her up with his come to make up for all the fluid she’s lost. She’s going to love it - _fuck -_ he just knows she’s going to love being brought to the edge over and over, and the first time he comes inside of her she’s going to make that face he adores - that face like she’s outrageously offended but also kind of into it, and once he convinces her that she likes it, that it’s completely fine, she’ll let him keep doing it because she’s a lustful little tart who can’t get enough of his cock, no matter how angry she is with him (case in point) _._ Robin is well aware that he’s jumping way ahead of himself but he can’t help it, she’s his bloody fantasy woman, and his wife, _and_ he loves her.

He shudders and thrusts again, again, _again_.

Using her arms as leverage, Regina starts pushing back against him as he thrusts, so Robin takes that as permission to unleash on her. He grips her hips tightly and starts fucking her fast, his hips slapping against her backside as he rams into her, her breaths sharp and laced with high pitched gasps. There’s a problem though - his shirt keeps getting in the way, and her knickers are chafing against his cock, and if he plans to rub her clit for her in a minute, which _he does_ , he can’t hold both out of the way. It’s rather annoying, distracting, it’s taking away from the experience, and he’s got a knife down his boot but he doesn’t want to stop to reach for it. He’s just wondering what the fuck to do about all this when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and low and behold, here comes one of his guardsmen on his nightly rounds.

Regina doesn’t see the man - her head is bowed down in pleasure as she braces against the wall - and for good measure, Robin switches to hard, deep strokes, the ones that rail against that sensitive spot inside of her, jarring her body and making her whine, making her go up on her tiptoes only to press back down against him for more. As the guard draws nearer, Robin holds his finger to his lips to quiet the man, but beckons him nearer just the same.

It isn’t like the guard is in plate metal, he’s wearing a sword and has a shield strapped to his back but otherwise he’s in a leather tunic with the Locksley family crest embroidered on it, trousers, and leather boots which make him reasonably quiet against the stone floor, especially with all the noise Robin is getting Regina to make. To his credit, the man keeps his eyes off of Regina as he nears Robin, and when he gets about five feet away, Robin motions for the man’s dagger at his belt.

The man’s eyes go wide, and he draws back, obviously misunderstanding Robin’s intentions as something much darker than what he means, and Robin almost laughs at him - all he wants is to cut off her knickers so they stop rubbing the side of his cock raw. He doesn’t know how to tell the guard that without breaking his silence or tipping Regina off, so he does his best - nods toward Regina as he runs his fingers along the waistband of the silk garment, pulls it away from her then looks back at the man, who must be in his early twenties, shrugs and flashes him his best “I need help” grin.

The younger man actually smirks back at him, finally understanding what it is Robin wants, and when his gaze lingers on Regina for a moment, Robin suddenly realizes that while he’s fully clothed, she’s down to _just_ her knickers - her breasts free and swaying, the side of her naked body on display as he continues to fuck her deep and steady. He wants to be angry, but he can’t really blame the guard for looking at her, she’s gorgeous and Robin stares at her every chance he gets too, so instead of getting upset he motions again for the man to step closer. This time he does, Robin pulls the waistband of Regina’s knickers away from her again and, as a little reward for his guardsman, he lets him do the honor of using the dagger to cut the fabric himself.

As soon as it’s cut he tugs the scrap of cloth down her other leg, immediately more comfortable as he thrusts faster, her breaths catching as she stutters out little _Mm!_ and _Ohh!_ and _Ah-Ah!’s_ for him. Regina starts to pick up her head, but the bloody guard is still standing next to him, not having yet been dismissed - _fuck -_ so Robin panics and slaps her arse, the sharp _smack!_ echoing as she bucks against him, her cry of shock and pleasured-pain loud in the otherwise silent corridor, but he gets the reaction he wants as she immediately drops her head back down. He slaps her perfect round arse again for good measure, his palm stinging under the contact, his cock throbbing with arousal as her skin reddens from the abuse, but she’s facing forward again and he should be able to get the guard out of here now.

“Hey, Jefferson! There you are mate! I was looking all over for you!” A man yells from down the hallway, a good fifty feet away. Regina straightens up fast but Robin moves with her, staying inside of her and pushing her hard against the stone wall, motioning fast for the guard to get the bloody hell out of there as he wraps one hand around to rub Regina’s clit.

She told him not to stop fucking her until she came, and he has absolutely no intentions of stopping now.

“Oh my - _ahh_ \- god,” she pants, as he thrusts _fast-fast-fast_. “There are - _ohhh jesus_ \- there are people in the h-hall, Robin - _mmmh_ \- we have to, we have - _mmm, fuh-ck_ \- I’m… _oh!_ they’re going see me!”

Robin puts his lips to her ear, eternally thankful that she pulled her hair up today. “So come,” he tells her, “And then you can get dressed.” His voice is a deep, rough baritone from not being used for so long, but he doesn’t care anymore if he’s supposed to speak or not. To his relief, she doesn’t chastise him, _ohh no_ , apparently they’re past that point now, because instead, she clenches on his cock and _moans_.

He focuses in on her clit, switching to firm, quick little swirls, tugging her hips further away from the wall so he can fuck her deep again, speeding up so he’s thrusting as fast as possible, her body jerking under him, his other hand leaving her hips to palm her bouncing left breast, pinching her nipple roughly when he can finally get a good grip on her. Regina throws her head back and groans, her slick heat starting to flood him, soaking the bottom of his cotton undershirt.

“You were supposed to meet me five minutes ago!” that other guard complains loudly, and Robin hears Jefferson say, “ I’m here now, aren’t I? Stop being so dramatic.”

Robin turns his head just in time to see Jefferson look back to him and give him a little salute, which later Robin will find a bit too cheeky for his liking, but he can’t do shit about it now.

Robin sucks a love bite into the curve of Regina’s neck, grunting a little as he fights for control of his own arousal - he feels like he’s been fucking her for _ages_ \- _christ,_ he’s ready to burst - then tells her, “They’re heading this way, darling, you’d better come. They’re getting closer, _hurry_ , they can almost see us, _hurry!_ ” The guards aren’t actually coming any closer - in reality, the one who helped Robin has turned the other man (who has no idea what’s going on) around to face the opposite direction, and they’re chatting loudly at the intersection of another hallway.

But Regina doesn’t know that.

She’s starting to shake though, her whole body trembling against him, and he’s bloody-fucking-relieved, he needs her to come, needs her to find her release because he’s dying from arousal right now. His cock is so hard it really _is_ painful - he’s aching, throbbing, needing to come, but he positively refuses to give in until she does.

“They’re nearly here,” he growls, fucking her fast, _fast._ “They’re going to see us - going to see your hot tits bouncing, they’re going to see me sliding into your tight, sloppy little cunt, darling. They’re going to see the way you’re dripping, the way your whole body is shaking with need as I pound into you.” He speeds up; he’s sweating, his forearm, thighs and abs burning, his lungs on fire. Robin pinches her nipple, then twists and tugs, working it between his fingers. “They’re going to see their future queen gushing in the middle of the hallway for all to see, they’re going to see your sweet, pink pussy on display, spread wide open, all swollen and wet -”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because she cuts him off with this desperate noise that’s something between a cry and a sob as she starts to come, and when her inner muscles clamp down on him, contracting and releasing almost violently on his over-sensitive cock, all he can do is bite down on her shoulder and pray to the gods that he doesn’t spill inside of her as she cries out and jerks her hips, _clenching-clenching-clenching_ on him while he rubs mercilessly over her swollen little clit.

She comes and comes - _fucking hell_ \- it feels like forever, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, has to force himself to think about anything but his fingers playing with her nipple and rubbing on her clit, until her tremors eventually start to subside. Regina takes a deep, heaving breath, and Robin slips out of her fast, _barely_ making it out before he comes, hitting her arse and the backs of her thighs with his release before he even gets a good grip on his cock. He wraps his one arm around her waist and presses his forehead to the nape of her neck as he strokes himself to completion, gasping his relief, his hard length throbbing in his palm as he pumps out his load onto her lower back, covering her smooth golden skin with the white fluid and groaning quietly with how bloody-fucking-good it feels.

When he finally catches his breath, he grabs his handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes the mess from her, noticing belatedly that there isn’t any more noise coming from down the hallway, and when he looks, the guards have gone. Regina dips down to pull her pants up and Robin tucks himself in, then helps her get her back into her jacket, and for a few minutes they just put their outfits back on as best they can.

“What happened to my panties?”

Robin freezes as he buckles his belt then looks at her without picking up his head. “They uh, they were chafing me, so I made it so they weren’t.”

She narrows her eyes and looks closely at the fabric. “This was done with a blade, not torn.”

He knows he can’t lie to her, especially not now. “I er, I may have had a bit of help there,” he admits, and it takes her a second to put the pieces together, but then she glances down the hallway to where the guards were standing and back to him, the question shining in her eyes.

Robin nods, but at the abject horror that crosses her face, he adds, “He didn’t see much, I swear - it was that younger guard, and he was very respectful, he just helped me cut it and then he was on his way.”

Regina still looks appalled, so he continues, “He didn’t see anything but maybe a bit of the side of your breast, and, well, perhaps one of your arse cheeks, but I swear, I didn’t let him see anything else, and I had only your best interests at heart, I, I just wanted to be able to fuck you better.”

“Oh my god!” She gasps, obviously embarrassed, her face bright red.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. “I’m sorry, darling,” he babbles, “It’s just that your knickers were so uncomfortable against my cock, they were rubbing me raw, see, and satin’s a bitch to tear or I’d have just ripped them off, and I’ve got a dagger in my boot but I couldn’t reach it without hopping around on one foot like an idiot, which I’m certain you would not have appreciated in the moment - I’m coordinated but I’m not sure I’m quite _that_ coordinated - so I didn’t know how to get them off of you without completely stopping, and then he happened to be wandering by at just the right moment so when I saw his dagger I, I, I just, I needed a bit of help and he, well, he _helped_.”

Robin finally finds the sense to clap his mouth shut, and he rubs his palms over his eyes. Bloody hell, why can’t he ever just shut up? What is _wrong with him???_

Regina looks down as she finishes buttoning her pants, having awkwardly magicked her knickers back together, and when she’s done, she stares at him for a moment before she rubs her hand across her forehead and says quietly, “My god, Robin, you really _can’t_ string two coherent sentences together can you?”

He gives his wife a look of complete hopelessness and shakes his head no.

She stares at him for another second, and then, to beat all odds, she laughs.

 

 


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two - The Confusion

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two - The Confusion

 

 

It was supposed to wear off.

It was meant to be cruel, sure, and definitely humiliating, but in spite of all of that, Regina hadn’t intended for the curse to be permanent. So by the fifth day, when Snow White’s still _very_ scaly arm hadn’t faded in color or texture _at all_ , Regina knew that something wasn’t quite right with it. It didn’t matter all _that_ much, especially if Robin’s intention was to kill the little bitch anyway, but it was more like academic curiosity to Regina – a wondering of what she had done incorrectly that made the spell linger when it should have been almost completely gone at this point - that drove her to seek an answer. She had wracked her brain for hours, had looked through all of her spell books but found nothing that she had done wrong, so with all of her current resources exhausted, she came to the conclusion that she had better get some advice on how to turn the girl’s skin back to normal.

For that, there are only two options, and she certainly isn’t about to ask her mother. 

Embarking on a trip from Misthaven all the way to The Moors, however, isn’t quite as simple as it might have otherwise been, considering how much more complicated things have gotten since the day Regina cursed Snow in the corridor. While Regina knew that she could be hot-tempered, that she would never win any accolades for her ability to be patient, Regina _didn’t_ know that she had quite that much fury within her, that she was capable of harboring so much unbridled rage. She certainly hadn’t expected her natural reaction to involve reaching into the depths of her magical essence to draw from her dark energy reserves so she could hex the living daylights out of her transgressor.

And then, _god_ , then there’s the _thing_ with Robin that followed afterward. She has no idea what to even think about that. Half of her is shocked, is appalled at her own behavior, is completely embarrassed and wants to crawl under the nearest rock and never come out. This half is certain that she’ll never be able to look Robin in the eyes again without blushing, she’ll never be able to pass a guardsman in the hallway without wondering, _oh dear lord_ , if that was the one that cut her panties off of her.

But the other half of her, the half that cursed Snow, the half that thought it would be _funny_ to press a big red lipstick kiss to the girl’s severely bruised cheek (what the hell is wrong with her?!) - oh, that half seriously enjoyed shoving Robin to his knees and forcing him to put his mouth to good use. _That_ half of her loved the way her clit positively _throbbed_ as the dark magic flowed through her veins, loved the way Robin’s eyes dilated with desire when she grabbed him by the throat and commanded him to be silent, that part of her would’ve liked to have shoved her panties right down that fucking guard’s throat to teach him a lesson about sneaking up on her.

 _Jesus_.

She doesn’t know what the hell is happening to her, but she wonders if she has finally broken, if all the years of her mother’s emotional torment, followed by the fear of her life with Leopold, combined with the stress of the situation she’s been living in over the past several weeks has finally shattered her mind and this is the resulting insanity. Or perhaps this is true darkness invading her - perhaps she vastly miscalculated the amount of dark magic she used for that curse, and this is magic madness starting to take a hold of her.

Or, more terrifying still - maybe, just maybe, this is simply who she is without all of her manners and propriety, without all of her lessons and rules and etiquette. Perhaps this is the woman she truly is - some completely unhinged, dark curse wielding, sex-crazed psychopath who tortures young women and strips naked in the hallway so she can be fucked to screaming orgasms by the nearest available person.

The truth is, she can no longer rule it out.

To make matters worse, the politics surrounding Robin’s regency are starting to heat up, just as Robin had warned her they would, which means they’re going to have to do something about Snow soon. King Richard of Sherwood is furious over Robin’s regency, threatening to go to war if Snow is not immediately put on the throne regardless of her age, and on more than one occasion, Regina has seen that skeevy advisor to Leopold, Sidney, slinking in and out of the castle, stirring up trouble. Snow has luckily been subdued for the moment - she’s been hiding because of her arm, and also because her ladies are all too terrified to go anywhere near her as long as she’s sporting that reptilian appendage, but Regina knows the second she corrects Snow’s arm that the brat will be right back to pushing her agenda and trying to get her greedy little hands on her father’s crown again.

And to add insult to injury, most of the castle staff shrink back in fear of Regina now when they see her, word of her ‘evil’ magic having spread like wildfire. Even the stable boys - who she once had an especially good relationship with given all her time spent with Rocinante - give her a wide berth when she passes them in the barn. It just goes to show how easily misled the peasantry are by a few good rumors spread by Snow’s supporters.

God, everything is such a mess. Regina doesn’t know who she is anymore, or what she’s doing; things are coming to a head with Snow White and soon, she’s going to have to decide if she wants to be the Queen of Misthaven or not, and she is further from being able to make that decision than she has ever been before.

One would think that the kisses Robin has given her over the past five days - some that are sweet, some that are soft, some that are desperate, and some that are downright _sinful_ \- you’d think those would help her decide, but they only serve to confuse her more. Regina’s body craves his touch, she needs his lips and his hands and _oh, oh, oh,_ how she wants his _other_ parts too, but she’s been abstaining from anything more than kissing, in a last ditch effort at trying to figure out what’s going on with herself. She can’t think when he’s _doing things_ to her, and they both know it.

But she can’t resist his kisses. She just _can’t_.

It would be much too easy to crawl into bed with him and shut the world out - she knows for a fact that he would absolutely allow this; that he would love to get her naked and under him (or on top of him, or next to him, or lord knows what else his salacious mind can come up with), that he’d work her body hard, he’d get her breathless, and sweaty, and _sore,_ and totally unable to form any words except for ‘ _don’t stop’_ and ‘ _more’_.

She doesn’t consider them to be ‘made up’, not by a long shot, and she’s made sure that he knows it. Regina is still heartbroken, she still doesn’t trust him, and even though he acts as if he loves her - what, with the way they talk and share their thoughts, the way they touch so innocent and comfortably, holding hands or when he brushes her hair out of her eyes for her, when they go horsebacking riding together or make eye contact at dinner over some inside joke - he still hasn’t told her that he loves her.

But he did tell her about murdering the guards, and he told her about Marian, about this woman he loved since he was a boy - Ruby’s cousin and Granny’s granddaughter. He told her funny stories and of how they fell in love, he told her about their first and last fights, and he told her how Leopold murdered her in front of his eyes.

So no, they’re not made up, but they’re not exactly fighting either.

And honestly… she really _can’t_ resist his kisses.

It’s the night before Regina is set to leave for her visit to see Maleficent - a difficult journey in which she is to ride part way with a party of the royal guard until she is close enough to teleport the rest of the distance, so she needs her rest tonight, but she’s lingering outside of her bedroom door with Robin, his hands firm around her waist as he nips and mouths her nipples through the soft velvet of her royal blue dress. She can’t make herself stop him - she loves it, she wants it, _god_ she wants it - so when he starts to tug the wide neckline down, she hears herself murmuring _yes, oh god, yeah_ to the top of his head as he drops hot kisses to the warm, smooth skin of her chest, tugging, tugging, tugging at the unforgiving fabric, then groaning in frustration when apparently the dress won’t give him enough room to reach the tip of her breast.

She cups his face and brings him up for another deep, tongue filled kiss, sucking and pulling at his upper lip in between breaths, her hands clutching at his hips then sliding over his ass - _god_ he’s got a great ass - to pull him against her.

“Oh god,” he pants, kissing the corner of her jaw, “Please lemme come in with you for a few minutes, please, just for a bit, we don’t have to go below the waist if you don’t want, I just want to put my mouth on you darling, wanna suck on your nipples for a minute, _fuck,_ I miss how you taste so much, miss how you feel, _please._ ”

“Miss you too,” she whispers, rubbing her fingers along the scruff at his jaw. “I particularly miss how this feels against my thighs,” she teases, and when Robin whines and drops his forehead to hers, she bites her lip as she smirks. “But didn’t you say you have something for me? Something you wanted to give to me before I leave to visit Maleficent tomorrow? Wasn’t that the whole point of why you walked me back up here after our card game?” They haven’t been able to play chess since he threw their game into the fire.

Robin straightens, his expression turning serious as he studies her face. “Yeah, I have something important, something… well, something I’ve thought a lot about, something I want to give you, to show you, to er, to make up for my stupidity. To show you that…” Robin pauses and shifts uncomfortably in front of her. “Do you suppose we might step inside for a moment? I swear my intentions are honorable, _this_ time.”

When he winks and gives her that adorable boyish grin, the one that drew her in right from the first time she met him, she’s completely powerless to say no. This is the man she’s in love with; this is her ‘Robin the Hood’.

They slip into her room and while he takes a moment to light a few extra candlesticks, Regina shifts as far away from the bed as possible - as if five feet of distance will prevent her from grabbing him and dragging him under the covers with her when her resolve finally breaks.

Robin pulls a tightly rolled piece of parchment from his tall, knee-high boot and comes to face her in front of the hearth.

“A couple of weeks ago, you asked me a lot of questions that I gave you honest, but really terribly worded, answers to,” he says quietly, as Regina looks curiously at the parchment he’s holding tightly in one hand.

“It took me a bit to put all the pieces together after our disagreement in the library for me to fully understand how I’d hurt you so badly, for me to realize that I had, rather childishly I’ll admit, been acting as if things were all just a game, just as you had said. Like I was using you as a pawn in a game of chess, and you’re right, my darling, I’m bloody terrible at chess.” Robin smirks and she laughs softly back at him, still clueless to where this conversation is going.

“But when you said we were _done_ , that we were _over,_ ” Robin grabs her hand and places her palm flat on the center of his chest. “My heart shattered and it’s like, like everything became real; like I thought my heart hadn’t been beating for five years, but then it exploded into a thousand pieces when I hadn’t even realized it had been mended. Because _you_ had mended it.”

Regina blinks tears out of her eyes, overcome with emotion as he speaks so openly, so honestly to her.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever known who has looked at me and seen _me_ \- not the little brother, not the replacement. You’re the only person who has demanded that I be more than second best, and darling, you’re the only person I have _ever_ tried to be _more_ for.” Robin brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, and when she opens her fingers, he presses sweet, soft kisses to her palm.

“I’ve missed a thousand opportunities to tell you what you’ve needed me to say, to tell you what I’ve wanted to say, to tell you what I have been too much of a coward to say. But I’ve _never_ said this to anyone else, Regina, I have never said it to another human being except for one other person, my Marian, and she, she… well, you know what happened to her. So I just, every time I wanted to say it to you, every time you needed me to say it, I saw her blood spilling out, I saw the blank stare of her eyes, I saw the way her skin turned pale as her life left her, and I couldn’t say it, because I _cannot_ lose you too.”

She’s crying and she can’t help it - not ugly crying, not sobbing, just slow tears of emotion as he confesses his demons to her. Robin’s blue eyes are dark, red-rimmed and wet, his brow pinched with stress. She can feel his hand shaking as he continues to hold hers tightly pressed against his chest again, almost hugging it to him as he speaks with her.

“But then I lost you because I _didn’t_ say it,” he laughs cynically, “So, I’ve found myself in quite the quagmire here.”

Regina smiles sympathetically and whispers, “Oh, Robin,” but he continues before she has a chance to let him off the hook.

“But, now that I’ve managed to bugger it all so fantastically, I figure that just me saying it isn’t enough to get you back. I broke your trust and I want to fix that, so here, darling,” he releases her hand and gives her the roll of parchment he’s been holding.

Before she opens it though, Robin threads the fingers of both of his hands through her hair, looks her straight in the eyes as he smiles, his voice quiet and sincere as he _finally_ tells her, “Regina Zara Adela, I love you.”

Regina smiles back, shaking her head as she laughs quietly, utterly overwhelmed, and Robin kisses her - a sweet, easy kiss that doesn’t heat up - just the punctuation for the declaration of his affection.

He pulls back and Regina unrolls the parchment as Robin watches her with excitement shining in his eyes.

“What…” Regina gasps. “What is this?” She reads the contents of the paper, her stomach dropping right to the floor as she stares at it, shocked to her core.

“I had the chancellor draw it up,” he tells her, smiling, and Regina’s eyes widen further, all the blood leaving her face as she takes in the official signatures already inked at the bottom, along with the official seal of the monarchy in place, one line left blank with her name printed beneath it.

“I don’t understand,” she says quickly. “This… this is a writ for the dissolution,” Regina clears her throat, “For the dissolution of our marriage.” Confusion and despair overtake her, and she can’t stop the broken words from coming, even though she chokes on them and has to whisper them like a fool, “If I sign this, we won’t be married anymore?”

“I’ve got it all done, I’m making good on my promise,” he grins, “See? I still have some honor.”

Regina fights the urge to burst into tears, her eyes burning with the restraint, the vein in her forehead standing up, her hands shaking violently as she snaps her eyes back up to him, one thought repeating over and over in her head - _He doesn’t want to be married to her anymore?!_

Robin is releasing her from their vows, erasing their commitment to each other, taking back her title of _wife_ \- the only title she has ever cared seriously about wearing.

“But you just, you just said that you,” she trails off, unable to repeat his words of love. She stares dumbly at the paper again, as if she’s missed some obvious mistake. Her eyes drift to his signature at the bottom of the page. “I see you’ve already signed. So it’s all done, just like that?”

Regina can’t breathe, her chest is tight, her vision dark around the edges. She has to pause to force herself to take a breath before she clarifies, “I sign this piece of paper, and just like that, we’re not together?”

“Yeah, just like that,” he says, his grin starting to fade as he scratches the back of his neck.

There is an awkward pause, then Robin tips his head to the side, his smile replaced with a look of concern as he asks, “Darling, what’s the matter? I was, well, to be honest, I was certain that this would make you happy, but now you’ve got this look in your eyes like -” Robin cuts himself off as fear washes over his face. “Oh god, I’ve cocked this up somehow, haven’t I?”

“I think you should go,” she says quietly, the feelings of elation that she had felt at his confession of love quickly erased as disappointment washes through her.

Robin’s eyes are wild, panicked as he asks, “Wait, what’s wrong? Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry - I apologize, I’m sorry, please, _please_ , darling, please tell me what I’ve done.”

Regina puts her hand to his chest and starts walking him backward toward her bedroom door. He doesn’t resist, but he does wrap his fingers around her wrist, babbling and begging her to tell him what he’s done, and by the time they reach the door, her resolve breaks. As he steps out into the hallway, she tells him sadly, “It’s not what you did, Robin, it’s what you didn’t do.”

Robin scrubs his hands over his face, tears in his eyes, his tone desperate and obviously afraid as he asks, “What does that mean? Regina, what the bloody hell does that mean?”

Regina isn’t sure she’s ever felt quite so desolate in her entire life as she tells him simply, “You didn’t fight. You didn’t even try.”

 

 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Three - The Guardian's Help

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Three - The Guardian’s Help

 

 

The second Regina appears in The Moors, she’s met with the familiar rush of forced wind against her cheeks, the flap of The Guardian’s wings as strong and quick as she remembers as her large form descends. The beautiful, dark-bodied dragon lands about twenty feet from Regina, and she smiles with barely concealed anticipation as Maleficent transforms back into her human form, her staff materializing in her hand, dressed in a long, black gown with an exceedingly low cut neckline and her signature horned headdress, completing the look Regina, and everyone within a hundred mile radius, recognizes so well.

“Hello, dear,” Maleficent drawls, looking Regina up and down. “It’s been a long time since your last visit, I almost didn’t recognize you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Regina is in the dark red cloak Robin once bestowed on her, beneath which she’s wearing black pants, knee-high boots, and an intricately embroidered royal purple jacket with puffed sleeves. Her raven-colored hair is double braided for both convenience and because she knows Maleficent likes it this way. She’s done her makeup with the darker shades she’s been favoring lately, and from her ears dangle elegant onyx gemstones that sparkle vibrantly against the midday sun. She approaches Maleficent cautiously, knowing of her friend’s fiery temper and hoping for her forgiveness for an absence that has a good excuse, but for which Regina is certain she’ll not be given an opportunity to explain.

“I seek your counsel,” Regina admits, getting straight to the point. “I’ve cast a curse on an abhorrent brat, and it has failed to revert to normal in the time that I expected it to. I am hopeful that you can help me discover what the error is.” Regina pauses and flashes her a guilty smile. “And you’re right, it’s been far too long. My skills are obviously in need of evaluation by an expert.”

Maleficent gives her an approving smile and Regina recognizes that she is forgiven - there is nothing The Guardian likes more than having her ego stroked.

“Well, that seems like a discussion for indoors, don’t you think?” Maleficent suggests, “Come here, little one, and we’ll have a chat like we used to.”

Regina immediately complies, already familiar with the way her friend will pass them through the magical barrier that surrounds her castle. She gets right up close to Maleficent, chest to chest, so that when The Guardian draws her cloak out and around in a movement that is reminiscent of the wings of her other form, she wraps them both up in the large flaps of it and teleports them straight into her castle.

They appear in Maleficent’s study, a large room with two huge wingback chairs that sit in front of a roaring hearth. Her friend likes to keep her castle warmer than most, on account of her body heat tending to vary a bit more with fluctuations in temperatures, so Regina immediately sheds her cloak, draping it over the back of her old usual chair.

“Tell me about this curse you cast,” Maleficent prompts as she pours Regina a glass of _very_ old, _very_ good whiskey, then takes the other chair by the fire. “And about this ‘abhorrent brat’ who so deserved it.”

Regina obediently tells her the details of the curse, making sure to include even the slightest imperfection that might have occurred due to her riled up state. She recounts the story of what precluded the curse - not the argument or the kissing with Robin, just the part about what Snow said and how Regina reacted to it. As Maleficent listens intently, an amused smirk plays across her face when Regina tells her about punching Snow, and when Regina mentions kissing the girl’s bruised cheek, she even gets The Guardian to laugh outright.

“Well, I can tell you that you haven’t done anything wrong with the curse, if what you’ve told me is to be trusted,” Maleficent says, eying her suspiciously at the conclusion of the tale. “But I can give you an answer about its permanency nonetheless.”

Regina is relieved - she knew Maleficent would have the answer, _thank god._

“It’s quite simple - you’re going to be really pissed off when you realize you came all this way and the answer was so easy,” she teases, taking a large swig of whiskey. “Now my dear, let’s think about your lessons - you must recall that I not only taught you how to cast one curse, but how to string multiple curses together in order to hex the living daylights out people such as this flake of snow, hmm?”

Regina nods in agreement, settling into her chair, falling easily back into her role as the eager, obedient, devoted student, soaking up every ounce of knowledge as her tutor continues.

“Everyone knows that non-permanent curses have an allotted amount of time for how long they last before they fade. From what you described to me, it seems when you cast the curses, you made their _effects_ simultaneous, but you failed to change the timing, so they’ve stacked instead of ticked down together.”

Shame courses through Regina as her cheeks heat with embarrassment. _Of course_. How could she be so stupid? How could she not have realized that? It’s casting combos 101. She drops her eyes and starts to pick at her fingernails, so upset with herself. _God_ , Mal must be so disappointed in her.

“Well anyway, according to the timetables of the curses you used, the girl should have her scale-free arm back by the time you return to Misthaven, though I personally don’t see what’s so bad about having an arm that looks like what you described.” Maleficent flashes her a devious grin, her perfect, straight teeth bright white against her dark red lipstick, and it makes Regina’s heart stutter a little. Though rare, Maleficent has such a beautiful smile, and all at once it hits Regina how much she has missed this. How much she has missed _her_.

She recalls all the nights they were together like this, all of the long evenings in this room where Mal spent countless hours teaching Regina to discover, to develop, and later, to master her magic. She fondly recalls the screams of frustration, the tears of failure, the shouts of success and the contented sighs of relief. She remembers Maleficent’s quick temper and slow approval, remembers the first shot of whiskey she ever took, and the last time she ever let her mother lay hands on her for more than a few seconds - the night Cora literally dragged her from this room while she begged to stay with The Guardian, to which Cora merely scoffed and informed her, _It’s time for you to take your place beside a King._

She shifts her thoughts back to the present, trying to shake her embarrassment at having come all this way for such a silly reason. “Thank you,” Regina says quietly, “I hadn’t thought of that, though you’re right, it’s simple and I should have. I have had a lot on my mind lately, that’s the only excuse I have for such an oversight.” She sips her whiskey and leans back in her chair, overcome with her conflicted emotions as she stares into the hearth.

“Have you made fire today?” Maleficent asks, her voice low, soft.

It’s a question her friend has asked her often over the years, referencing an activity that has always brought comfort to Regina when she really needs it. Creating fire with her magic is soothing; it’s a natural, easy release of energy that makes her feel good. It helps her to relieve stress in a healthy way, a way that Maleficent helped her discover many years ago when she was under her tutelage. It’s similar to a runner’s high, she supposes; it’s a sort of euphoria that relieves her anxiety and makes her feel splendid inside, which is why it is so often associated with other pleasurable feelings, especially soft, soothing touches, in particular.

“I have not,” she admits.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while they slowly drink their liquor.

“The negative, pent-up energy radiates from you,” Maleficent states plainly, and Regina straightens in her chair. Is she really that obvious?

“We both know that you are in need of relief,” The Guardian continues, “Shall we do it like we used to? Like when you first came to me and you used to tremble to pieces when I so much as raised my voice at you?”

Regina starts to shake her head no, but stops mid-motion and reconsiders. When she first came to be taught by Maleficent, she was in very poor spirits. Her mother’s influence had been debilitating - she was severely depressed, riddled with anxiety, and, come to think of it, full of anger issues. She didn’t have a clue who she was back then, she had no idea what she was capable of, and Maleficent had been the one to show her how to figure that out, to pull her out of the haze and guide her through this world of magic that has made her so much more than Regina ever could have imagined. Maleficent gave her the tools she needed to discover her magic _and_ herself, and Regina suddenly realizes that a bit of relief given freely from Mal is _exactly_ what she needs right now.

“If you wouldn’t mind it, yes I would like that, actually, I would like that very much,” she agrees quietly, not looking at Maleficent as she says it, a little embarrassed that she still needs this kind of support at her age. It feels needy, because it _is_ needy, but she can’t help herself when Mal is offering to give Regina what she has given so well so many times in the past.

“I never mind,” Maleficent drawls, and this pulls Regina’s gaze to her. “Why don’t you start like when we first began your lessons? Like when you didn’t have any manners at all, and I had to teach you just to breathe before we could even think about magic.”

Regina nods and sets down her tumbler of whiskey, then slips out of her chair and onto the large rug in front of her, scooting around on her knees until she’s sitting back on her heels in front of The Guardian.

“Palms up, my little one,” Maleficent instructs, and just those words cause a feeling of incredible calm and familiarity to settle over Regina like a warm, heavy blanket, wrapping her up and making her feel safe and secure for the first time in months. She exhales in relief.

Maleficent laughs quietly, in what almost sounds like sympathy as she says, “You haven’t even made fire yet, my dear. My, you must really be troubled to have come all this way, simply to put your mind at ease by kneeling at my feet with your empty palms in the air.”

Regina wishes she could deny it, but she can’t. She knows, deep down, that that is the real reason she came. She’s lost; she’s lost herself and she’s come home for help. “Yes,” she says simply.

“Breathe in,” The Guardian commands, and Regina does, then closes her eyes. “And out.” This is repeated several times, until Regina’s heart rate slows, until she feels centered, almost meditative, until all of her thoughts have quieted and her entire focus is on the voice of her tutor.

Then Maleficent’s command quietly changes to, “Fire in the left.”

With absolutely no effort, flames flicker in Regina’s left hand and the charged up release of magic feels incredibly satisfying. Maleficent gives her second, quiet command, “Fire in the right,” and Regina’s right palm flares with the magical flame, the release of energy making her huff out a harsh breath between her lips as she holds both flames steady before her teacher.

“Eyes open,” The Guardian says, and Regina blinks dazedly, the fire in her palms brighter than she had expected, the approving gaze of her teacher hard to see through the orange glow.

“Very good, little one,” Maleficent compliments, leaning forward, her hand reaching right through the flames of Regina’s left hand, completely unharmed, to stroke her fingers along Regina’s cheek and down to her chin just before she says, “Extinguish.”

Regina blows out the flames with two quick breaths, as Maleficent cups Regina’s chin and asks, “Shall we continue as we used to? Or was that enough?”

Regina needs more, she knows she needs more. She’s barely scratched the surface of her stress level. She has so many questions for Maleficent, and she can’t even bring herself to ask them until she can get back some of her control, which she absolutely does not have yet.

“More, please,” she half begs, resisting the urge to move toward Maleficent, knowing too well the punishment for being overeager.

The Guardian leans back in her chair, opens her arms, and Regina again exhales in relief, needing this - needing her friend’s support and guidance _so much_ , needing her to help her through this crisis she’s living. She crawls into Maleficent’s lap, sitting sideways and wrapping one arm around her neck, settling in close as Maleficent tightens an arm around her back, and the other around her knees, so she’s holding her firmly to her. Regina holds up her right hand - the hand not wrapped around Maleficent’s neck - in front of them.

“Fire,” Maleficent says quietly, and Regina immediately ignites the flame in her palm. Maleficent blows it out.

A few seconds tick by, Regina’s heart rate kicking up a little with anticipation, until Maleficent says again, “Fire.” It burns brightly, the orange glow beautiful as Regina stares at it, waiting patiently for Maleficent to extinguish it. After another few seconds, The Guardian blows it out.

On the next iteration, Maleficent puts her thick red lips against Regina’s ear and whispers, “Fire,” causing a shiver to rush through her in reaction as the flame jumps to life in her palm.

The Guardian lets the flame flicker for almost a full minute this time before she blows it out, the release of Regina’s magic so soothing that she doesn’t realize that she’s stroking the fingers of her other hand along the nape of Maleficent’s neck until The Guardian hums softly, kisses Regina’s cheek and commands again, “Fire, my dear.”

Regina exhales loudly when she makes the flame this time, the intensity of the fire much hotter than before, the emotional relief mixed with the magical release causing the flame to intensify naturally. She is so thankful for Maleficent, _jesus_ , she’s thankful - she needs this so much right now, it’s helping her more than she could have ever hoped, to the point that she’s already starting to recognize parts of herself again. Mal blows the flame out.

“Fuel,” Maleficent says this time, her fingers tightening on Regina’s legs. Excitement courses through Regina as they work through this part of the exercise; it feels so settling to practice this, it’s been ages and ages since she’s been able to.

Regina holds her palm steady and lets the magic come without the ignition of the flame - a test of her control - then turns her face to Maleficent, pressing the bridge of her nose to her cheek, then nuzzling into her neck and breathing in her familiar scent. She loves this, _jesus,_ she loves this. Maleficent isn’t someone that many people could refer to as cuddly, but long ago, well within the first year that Regina started taking lessons with her, Maleficent learned that Regina _requires_ this, she needs soothing, soft touches when she’s in this state of complete emotional breakdown, that the only way to piece her back together is through affectionate contact. The Guardian breathes fire from her lips and Regina’s hand flashes brightly, the flame startlingly large for a moment, then quickly lessened as Regina carefully brings down the intensity. She’s frustrated that she’s just lost control again - she had thought she had it back but was obviously overconfident, and she has the singed jacket now to prove it.

Maleficent looks back to Regina, frowning.

“What a frazzled state you’re in, my pet,” The Guardian states, tightening her grip on Regina, the hand on her legs stroking slowly up and down the tops of her thighs. Maleficent shifts and her headdress disappears, her long, crimped blonde hair falling softly around her shoulders as she studies Regina’s eyes. The Guardian brings her hand up and traces the contours of Regina’s face, lingering at her bottom lip, then tugs it down, sliping two fingers between Regina’s teeth for her to suck on before she prompts, “Why don’t you start by telling me why the scent of pine and testosterone is slathered all over your skin?

Regina sucks on Maleficent’s fingers, the touch, the taste, the familiarity of this action makes her feel safe, makes her feel calm, makes her feel like everything is okay and that it’s fine that she lost control for a moment. She allows herself to get lost in the guilty pleasure, stroking her tongue along the pads of Maleficent’s soft, smooth skin as she relishes that familiar salty flavor that always has a hint of char to it. Maleficent permits this, even parts her fingers when Regina presses against them with her tongue, immediately stroking long and smooth between them, then rubbing and sucking again, her eyes half closed, almost trance-like until finally, Maleficent pulls her fingers from Regina’s mouth entirely.

Regina knows better than to protest, so she opens her eyes slowly and tells Maleficent, “I’ve married Robin of Locksley, Prince Regent of Misthaven. It’s his scent.”

Maleficent nods, and Regina is not shocked that this is old news to her friend. “Before that though, we became friends, and over the course of this entire situation, I,” Regina swallows thickly, her heart pounding, cheeks flushing red, suddenly ashamed of herself. “I fell in love with him.”

“Fire,” Maleficent commands, and the flame licks up from Regina’s palm before she even thinks about making it happen.

The stress of what she’s just said immediately abates with the release of magic, and when Regina takes a deep breath, Maleficent blows out the flame.

“And this Robin,” The Guardian growls, her voice a low, protective rumble, “He doesn’t love you?”

“I don’t, I don’t know.” Regina huffs. “I’m so confused. When I thought that he did, he wouldn’t say it. Then when I thought that he didn’t, he said it, but then he handed me a writ of dissolution for our marriage. When we agreed to be married he told me that once I had helped him with Snow White, I could choose to rule as Queen of Misthaven, or I could go on to do whatever I wanted, but he never…” her anxiety is starting to rise again, her chest tightening, her voice jumping an octave as she tries to explain.

“Fire, little one,” Maleficent cuts her off, and Regina pushes the fire from her palm, but it’s a little weak this time. She tries to focus on it, but her attention isn’t where it should be, and the flame jumps around haphazardly, the intensity flaring sporadically - not at all like the flames she’s been making. She feels Maleficent’s fingers at her neck then, stroking up and down, and she tips her chin up to expose more of her skin, grateful, _oh god_ , so, _so_ grateful for this, focusing on the easy, slow caress until her flame once more becomes a steady, even flicker. When Regina has her magic back under control, Maleficent runs one finger along her jawline, pausing to pinch her bottom lip lightly before she encourages, “You could be Queen, or you could leave, but he never _what_?”

Regina takes a deep breath, her heart throbbing with the pain brought on by her own naivete. “He never mentioned _dissolving our marriage_ \- I guess I just thought that we would stay married either way.”

And suddenly it’s like the floodgates have opened.

“And he fought, Mal - he was engaged to this woman before, to a kind, beautiful, _normal_ girl that he had this pure, true, perfect love story with, and he fought for her, he fought with all he had to be with her, even though they were always doomed from the start.” She feels her eyes water and she fights back the emotion. “He fought, and he fought, and _he fought_. He fought and he failed and he tried to _die_ without her, but he won’t lift a fucking finger to fight for me.”

“Ah,” is all Maleficent says, and they sit together quietly for a moment, mulling things over.

“What’s wrong with me?” Regina asks, her voice almost a whisper. “Why won’t he fight for me? Why do I even care if he does or does not? All I have ever wanted is to be free to make my own choices. I should be thrilled to have the dissolution. I should have signed that paper and teleported the hell right out of there.” Regina furrows her brow, stares at her fireball, then blows it out.

“Love makes us do incredibly stupid things,” Maleficent deadpans.

“When I attacked Snow, when I had sex with Robin afterward, _and_ honestly, even now, Mal, there is this, this, this _feeling_ , this _wild darkness_ inside of me.” She takes a steadying breath, pauses to make her flame, notes she is still controlled, snuffs the fire and continues. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m appalled by what I did to Snow, and to Robin that night but I’m also, I’m also…”

Regina looks to Maleficent for the word, and to her surprise the other woman is wearing a highly amused smirk, one finely arched eyebrow raised as she wiggles her fingers haphazardly through the fire still flickering in Regina’s hand.

“Excited? Intrigued?” Maleficent supplies as she drops her hand to Regina’s lap, smoothing over the hinge of her thigh then down, the unnaturally heated skin of her fingers so hot through Regina’s pants that it has her shuddering out a breath and biting her bottom lip as Maleficent adds, “Aroused?”

“Yes,” Regina breathes, “All of those things.” Maleficent rubs soothingly across the tops of her thighs as Regina tucks her face in close to her, her nose pressed to The Guardian’s neck. The flame in Regina’s palm wavers for just a moment and Maleficent’s hand comes up to stroke Regina’s hair, her long fingers playing across the tight, thick braids, smoothing across them over and over, then pausing to knead at the back of Regina’s neck, lulling her.

It doesn’t take long for Regina’s magic to steady this time - a sure sign of progress - and when it does, Regina asks, her voice almost a whisper against Maleficent’s neck, “What does it mean that I feel like this? Am I falling into magic madness?”

Maleficent barks out a laugh so loud that it startles Regina, the fire in her hand sparking out as she watches her tutor struggle to contain her amusement. Regina is immediately affronted and tries to sit up, but she is held firmly in place as The Guardian continues to laugh for several more seconds before she finally composes herself, smoothes her hand down Regina’s thigh, gives it a sharp slap and says coarsely, “It means you finally stopped giving a shit.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Regina snaps, getting up and moving back to her own chair, admittedly pouting, but too frustrated to care.

“Oh, this is too good,” Maleficent chuckles, “For the first time in your life, you let yourself take a chance and, in pure Regina fashion, you let all the walls come tumbling down at once.”

The Guardian looks her over for a moment as Regina grits her teeth, unable to deny it.

“You say you want to be free,” Maleficent says, “But Regina, in your entire life, you have never experienced such a thing. Never, that is, until the night you cursed Snow White.”

Regina furrows her brow, still annoyed, but curious too.

“That night, you finally had enough of being pushed around, and at the same time, you stopped caring what anyone thought about you.” Maleficent laughs, “So for the very first time in your entire life, you just did what you wanted to do - the consequences be damned - because that’s what that little bitch deserved, and, according to what I know of this _Robin_ , it’s what he deserved as well.” The Guardian pauses, a slow smile forming on her lips as she looks Regina over. “What I'm saying is, you were still yourself, dear, you just unhooked the leash.”

Maleficent pauses as Regina’s understanding starts to sink in.

“Yeah well, if that’s true, I’m not sure the world can handle the emancipated version of me,” Regina gripes. “I’m not sure _I_ can handle that version of me.”

Maleficent smirks. “It’s always easier to stay with what you know and live by the rules, just like you’re doing now, running home to mother dragon, asking questions for which you already have all the answers to. But you know the old saying - no risk, no reward.”

After a moment of reflection, Regina nods her agreement, because _god_ , she’s been such a fool. She knows all of this, _jesus_ , it all makes so much sense if she could have just looked at it through a different lens, just seen it from outside of her own perspective, because Maleficent is exactly right. Regina has been clinging to what she knows because she wasn’t ready to accept the fact that this dark version of herself might actually be the most real, the most true version there is, and she owes it to herself to find out. It’s not like she can just take a knife and cut out the dark parts of herself - she has to accept that this darkness is a part of her and will _always_ be a part of her; she has to accept that she can’t continue to hide such a large piece of herself and pretend like it doesn’t exist, or she really will go crazy.

So she’s ready to face herself, she thinks, ready to look in the mirror, open and exposed, the light and the dark together all at once, and really see who she is for the first time. Once she is armed with that knowledge, she can decide what it means to her to be free, and then she can make the best choice possible regarding her deal, and her marriage with Robin when the time comes. But that time won’t come until Snow is dealt with, and she can think of no greater mastermind that the one in front of her to help her plot such a task.

“Mal,” Regina calls, her dark brown eyes connecting with the blue of The Guardian’s, excitement rushing through her. “I think it’s time I tried learning that enchantment again - you remember don’t you? The one my mother wanted me to learn but I could never quite get right.”

Maleficent thinks for a moment, then apparently recalls what Regina is talking about. “Hm, are you sure?” she asks, cocking her head to the side to study Regina. “You had terrible luck with it last time. There isn’t a soul in this realm who can actually do it, you know, so you’ll have to learn it purely from what notes I have, texts and diagrams - oh, and I’m low on prisoners, so you won’t have much room for mistakes.”

Regina steels herself, certain she can get it this time, positive that now that she’s embraced the other half of herself, she can master the only enchantment she has ever failed to ace.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

 

 


	26. Chapter Twenty-Four - The Uncomplicated

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Four - The Uncomplicated

 

 

Regina appears silently in Robin’s bedroom with a swirl of purple smoke, grateful for the late hour so that they don’t have to have an intricate conversation that she just does not have the energy for. She’s mentally exhausted from the last five days of her lessons with Mal, and though she knows it will be worth all the hard work, it’s left her too drained to tackle the plethora of issues that she and Robin have.

She takes the tight braids out of her hair, running her fingers through the thick black strands and shaking it out, keeping the sharp wavey kinks in it but using a touch of magic to tame any of the really unruly spots so that it falls just right all around her shoulders. It’s quick work to remove her cloak and the rest of her clothes - she’s too tired to be shy tonight - instead, she’s focused on what she wants, what she needs, so she is extra careful not to wake her husband as she readies herself for him, his breaths deep and even, completely unaware of her presence.

Approaching the foot of the bed, Regina takes another moment to study Robin, to let her heart make that little flutter when her eyes drift over his brow, his straight nose, the hard cut of his jaw and his scruffy cheeks, and the word _husband_ jumps to the forefront of her mind. She even lets herself smile softly, because tonight that’s _all_ she’s going to focus on. Tonight she is just going to be a wife in bed with her husband, sleeping with him for the first time since their wedding night, touching and cuddling and, if she has any say about it, bringing each other pleasure under the safety of darkness until neither of them can keep their eyes open.

He’s laying on his back, his face turned to the side with the blankets resting low on his hips, and she follows the hard cut lines of the muscles of his chest and abs down to his narrow hips, her stomach dropping with excitement when she starts to pull the blanket down and realizes that he isn’t wearing anything underneath. Regina smiles to herself - he’s made this _way_ too easy for her.

With the blanket out of the way, she climbs slowly, carefully into his bed, her body positioned between his legs as she smoothes her hands up his thick thighs, massaging the muscles lightly as she inches her body further and further up. He’s not hard for her, but she’s pretty sure she knows how to get him there, and from all of their other trysts, she’s confident that it won’t take much anyway.

“Robin,” she calls softly, placing a hand on each of his thighs and stroking firmly up and down.

He stirs but doesn’t wake, so she teases her hands in closer to where she wants to touch him most, rubs over his hip bones and follows the vee shape of his obliques to their natural conclusion, smirking with satisfaction as he moans softly in his sleep and shifts his hips up at her.

“Mmm,” she hums softly, rubbing her hands teasingly up and down that vee again and again - _ooo she likes this vee, she wants to run her tongue along it, god he’s sexy_ \- and he shifts his hips in response, almost thrusting, his length half erect now. “Robin, my dear, wake up so you will remember the pleasure your wife is about to bestow upon you,” she teases, keeping her voice low and sultry. She leans forward and licks the tip of his cock with the flat of her tongue, licks it again then takes him into her mouth, and he hisses, one hand drifting down to touch the top of her head as his breathing picks up.

“Ohh,” he mumbles, “Just like ‘at ‘Gina, suck it, _mm_ love, know ya like it, naughty girl, pu’me in your mouth, suck-it, ah yeah.”

It’s hard to smile when he’s in her mouth, but the sentiment is there. She’s never heard him slur his words quite so sleepily, his accent is so thick she can barely understand what he’s saying, and she’s pretty sure he’s still mostly asleep - caught in a dream.

His other hand comes down to brush the side of her face as she sucks on the head of him, flicking across him with quick little strokes of her tongue as he hardens fully, her hand pumping his length when she takes him further into her mouth and starts to work him in and out. Robin moans at her movements, his fingers twisting in her hair as he pants, “Oh, yeah, _yeah_ , ‘at’s it m’love, aw, suck me so good, _mm_ love your mouth on me, oh yeah sweet’art slide your tongue all over me, _fuck._ ”

Regina pulls up, a little breathless, and works him with her hand, pumping up and down quickly, then recalls the way he touched his... _other_ parts too, and she reaches for him tentatively, completely unsure how to do this. But she’s a good student, she paid attention, and it looked simple enough when he showed her. She handles him carefully, lightly squeezing and massaging his balls as her other hand pumps him, noticing the quiver in his lower belly, the way his thighs are flexed and straining. She looks up to check his expression, wondering if he’s watching her, but she notices his eyes are closed and realizes that he _still_ isn’t quite awake. She grins and drops her head back down so she can suck on him some more.

As she takes him back between her lips he starts mumbling again, his hands threading into her hair as he talks _so_ filthy, but it makes her wet, makes her want him, makes her clench in undeniable need for his touch.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispers, “You love it, I know it, you acted like you didn’t before but I knew you did, you want my come, ah, love _mm_ , I’ll give it to you, _fuck_ , gonna give it to you, I’ll put it in you anywhere you want. Open your lips, I’m gonna spill in your mouth like you want, _mm_ you filthy tart, bet you can’t wait to taste it, _fuck_ , here it comes.”

Robin’s hand wraps around hers on his cock, suddenly tightens and stills her, and there’s an awkward pause as she pulls her mouth from his slick, hot length, his breathing stops entirely, he jerks up into a half-sitting position and gasps, “Holy fuck! _You’re real?!_ ”

Regina grins, slowly licks the tip of his cock with the wide flat of her tongue, and - _oh!_ \- she jerks her head back quickly, not quite knowing what to do - _oh god_ \- she has to fight not to cringe, he’s started to come and it’s _on her face_. It’s, it’s, it’s on her chin. _Oh god_. Does she… Does she use her hand to wipe it off? The sheet? The longer it takes her to decide, the longer it’s on her and - _oh jesus_ \- she’s so embarrassed.

Robin lurches forward and grabs her wrist tightly, pulling her hand from his cock, groaning sharply as the rest of his hot, warm release spills from him, his abs clenching as she grabs the sheet and wipes her chin, then watches his body react. He looks pained, looks upset, and she wonders why, knowing that she did a good job - he can’t have been lying about it feeling so good when he didn’t even know she was there.

He has one hand wrapped around his cock - not stroking, just covering the head and holding completely still - and he’s obviously gritting his teeth, his brow furrowed tightly, shoulders strained as his release wracks through him. Regina feels a little bad, but she doesn’t really know why - shouldn’t he be happy that she did this for him?

Settling back on her heels, Regina kneels between Robin’s legs and waits him out, not knowing what the hell else to do. After another minute or so, he groans and opens his eyes, immediately finding hers in the dim firelight, flashing her a guilty grin while he rubs the back of his neck and says, “ _Christ_ , you just made me come like a bloody schoolboy.”

Forgetting her embarrassment, Regina smirks in response, and Robin leans forward to press a quick kiss to her lips.

He cups the side of her face, shifting around so he’s kneeling too, and starts kissing along the line of her neck as he tells her, “My darling, you are entirely too gorgeous to show up unannounced in my bed - if you ever expect me to last longer than two seconds, you’ve got to give a man some sort of warning - I never stood a chance.” He chuckles against her skin as he presses kisses down her chest, then, without warning, he - _mmm_ \- takes her left nipple between his lips, rubbing it with his tongue and sucking hard until it _pops_ from his mouth before he whispers, “Fuck you’re hot.”

Regina hums as he treats her right nipple to the same treatment, the forceful, slick, pulling sensation making her clit throb in reaction, and asks, “Did you think I was a dream?” She runs her hands over his thickly muscled shoulders, digging her nails in a little, his skin hot under her touch, the scent of his pine soap strong in her nose - _god_ , she has really missed him.

“You _are_ a dream,” he corrects, pressing a kiss to the center of her chest, right over her heart, then pressing more kisses in a line straight up her throat until he’s back at her lips. Robin wraps his arms around her waist and tugs her to him so they’re pressed tightly together from hips to chest, and bumps the tip of his nose against hers. “I can’t believe you’re here - I dreamed about you every night you’ve been gone,” he kisses her softly, and she sighs against his mouth, the soft scrape of his stubble such a welcome feeling against her lips. “Missed you,” he kisses her again, “Love you so much.”

Robin freezes against her, his eyes wide as he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’m supposed to say it or not, it just slipped out.”

Regina thinks for a moment, then strokes her fingers through his hair and reassures him. “Let's not think about any of that tonight, okay?” she proposes, “Let’s just be us, without all the complications, how does that sound?”

“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing her ribs, his eyes serious but hopeful.

It’s strange to her that Robin could miss her when it’s not as if they routinely share a bed together. In fact, aside from their wedding night, they have _never_ shared a bed together. The idea that he misses her when she’s truly gone makes her heart positively ache, though, makes her love him that much more, makes her wish for things she shouldn’t, makes her kiss him with every ounce of passion inside of her and tell him, “Yeah. I love you too.”

He gets a lopsided smile on his face when she says it - that dopey one he gave her the first time they met, and she can’t help but smile back at him. She even laughs a little - he can be so adorable when he’s like this, when he’s almost shy and all shocked that she’s interested in him.

“Well then,” he slides his hands up her back to tug playfully on the long strands of her hair, kissing her neck when she tips her head back in response, “Since you were so very kind as to wake me with your gorgeous mouth, I think it’s best I return the favor, don’t you?”

“Mmm, yes,” she hums, definitely wanting that - no longer nervous about it; Robin’s mouth is sinfully talented and _god_ , she really, _really_ likes it when he puts it on her _there_.

“Thank-fucking-god,” he groans, sliding his hands down over her ass, giving her cheeks a good squeeze then continuing on to the backs of her thighs. “Been thinking about how you taste for _weeks_.”

Robin dips his fingers between her thighs from the back so she spreads her knees, and he must not be able to wait, because he skirts one hand back around the front and rubs his middle and ring fingers right - _oooh_ \- right through her slit, rubbing over her clit and her inner lips, all the way back to her entrance for several strokes, gathering up her wetness then slipping his fingers into his mouth, moaning and closing his eyes like it’s some sort of delicacy. When Robin opens his eyes he laughs at the face she’s making before she even knows she’s making it.

“Someday, darling,” he smirks then puts his lips to her ear, sliding two fingers along her slit again to tease her entrance, her hips moving toward him on instinct, “I’m going to prove to you that you're fucking delicious, and then you’re going to fight me over who gets the next taste of you. You’re going to be jealous that I get to put my mouth right on your hot, wet little cunt - right at the source - and you’re going to beg to suck my fingers clean, you’re going to bite my tongue to get every last bit, because you’re going to be as desperate for it as I bloody well am.”

He slips the two fingers he’s been teasing her with up into her, and her hand flies to his forearm, gripping tightly, her breath hissing out fast. Ohhh, that feels good. _God that feels good_. But she wasn’t quite expecting it, and she’s so tight - she hasn’t had the time or energy to touch herself lately, so she’s _extra_ tight, and - _mmm!_ \- when he wiggles his fingers like that, rubbing against the front - _jesus_ \- Regina spreads her knees further apart - _oh god_ \- a rush of hot, slick lubrication slides down to coat his fingers and she has to hold onto his shoulder with her other hand to keep her balance.

“Fucking hell,” Robin murmurs, “You’re so tight, oh fuck, I don’t even know if I can fit, _christ,_ come and lay on your back for me, darling.”

She shifts and he lays next to her, running his fingers up and down the length of her body, his expression serious as his eyes follow his fingers, and Regina suddenly feels very much like she’s on display. She tries to take a calming breath but her heart is racing as he touches her, and when he strokes his fingers across her lean stomach, she shudders out a _very_ nervous breath.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, and she feels him flatten his hand against her, rubbing slowly, back and forth just below her breasts, then down to her hip bones to smooth over the rounded edges of them.

“Nothing,” she immediately replies, looking at the ceiling and resisting the urge to cover her chest.

Robin rubs his hand across her belly back and forth, back and forth, and when she looks at him she finds this strange look on his face as he stares at her smooth stomach. She asks nervously, “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Robin smiles softly, bites his bottom lip and says, “I was just wondering if you want to have children.” His hand smooths across her stomach again, then lower, crossing from hip bone to hip bone, then back up to cup each of her breasts. “I’d wager your body will be even more gorgeous when you’re with child,” he says, his voice quiet, full of wonder. “Can you imagine just how perfect your babes will be, all dark hair and eyes? _Christ,_ my love, is that something you want? I know it’s something that I do, it’s something I very much would like to have with you.”

Her anxiety level flies through the roof, her heart hammering in her chest and tears flooding her eyes as she looks at the hope and excitement shining in his. She doesn’t understand him at all, doesn’t understand how he can lay here with her and say these things, how he can act this way when she knows he doesn’t mean it. Her chest constricts and it’s suddenly hard to breathe, so Regina slams her eyes shut, focusing on getting air in her lungs, turning her palms up and doing what she knows - making fire in the left, fire in the right - breathe - breathe –

“Uhhh, darling, your uh, your hands, uh, fire, _fire_ ,” she hears Robin stutter, and his discomfort, paired with the soothing release of her magic breaks her out of the panic that was starting to settle over her.

Regina lifts her hands and blows out the fire, then looks over at him and says, “I um, I haven’t really thought about that, yet - it’s a bit fresh, considering the circumstances.”

Robin has the decency to look guilty for the question, but says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful darling, and I can’t help but look at you and think that our children would be beautiful, just like you.”

His eyes drift over her again, and she’s uncomfortable with this conversation - they can’t keep talking about something that will never happen, it hurts entirely too much, and she’ll never keep it together if they continue, so she says, “I’m sorry, it’s just that when you stare at me like that, it makes me feel like I’m on display. It reminds me of the night your brother won me.”

“Oh fuck,” Robin grits out. “Should I stop? I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, I mean I definitely wanted to look at you - of course I did, just look at you, _christ_ you’re so pretty - but I didn’t want you to feel like you were being _looked at_. I mean, not that I wanted you to feel like I was looking at you when you didn’t know it, cause that would be creepy too. That would probably be creepier than the first way, come to think of it. I just wanted to look at you because I haven’t seen you in so long, and I know that’s my fault for being such a bloody-fucking-idiot, but it’s just that you’re so gorgeous, _christ_ , even better than I remembered - and trust me, _I remembered_ \- _not_ that I er, fantasized or anything, well I, _fuck_ , not that much...” He cringes, opens his mouth a few more times but no words come out, then looks to the ceiling as if he wishes the heavens would open up and take him. Regina finds herself overwhelmed, shaking her head at his ridiculous babbling, then smiling sympathetically at his obvious embarrassment. She reaches up to stroke his cheek, then grins with amusement before outright laughing at his stupidity.

“Come over here and kiss me, husband,” she proposes. “I’m chilled, you’re warm, and you should obviously be doing something with your mouth other than talking.”

Robin looks like he wants to die of humiliation, but nods and stretches out on top of her, his big, warm body completely covering hers, his heavy weight - _yes, oh yes_ \- exactly what she needed to feel more secure. He props himself on his elbows over her, one hand brushing softly over her brow as he says quietly, “Why am I such a brainless fool when you’re around? I swear to god, in any other situation I am not such a moronic, blathering fuckwit-”

Regina interrupts him by kissing him, then murmurs, her lips against his, “No,” kiss, “More,” kiss, “Talking.” Then she slides her tongue into his mouth, and makes sure of it.

This time he makes his way down her body slowly, arousal simmering through her as he uses his lips, teeth, tongue and hands to stroke every inch of her. Although they’ve only had each other a few times, he knows her body well - he must have been paying as much attention as she was - because he knows just where to touch her to make her gasp, or shiver, or - _gah- ahddd_ \- to make her breath hitch. He teases her nipples, licks gently and slowly, taking his time and letting one get soft while he lazily plays with the other. He traces the curves of her breasts with his fingertips, cupping and stroking her, massaging and taking his time, slowly building up, then licking and nipping and sucking all around her sensitive peaks faster, faster, until she’s panting, then squirming, then breathlessly demanding him to pay better attention to her nipples, telling him to _lick me_ and _suck on me_ and _flick them baby, just like that_.

When she gets to the point that she can’t stop rolling her hips up to him and she starts begging him to put his mouth on her _down there_ , he obligingly works his way slowly down her stomach, stroking his hands across the lean lines of her muscles, pressing kisses to the sensitive spot right in front of her hip and teasing it with his tongue. It makes her breath catch, especially when he rubs little circles to the same spot in front of her other hip with his thumb, and she threads her fingers in his hair in encouragement, trying to shift him even further down, needing him at her core, needing him to do something about all this wetness she’s made for him already.

Robin finally shifts down so he’s nestled between her thighs while he lays on his belly, and he moans as he spreads her sex with his thumbs, rubbing up and down against her outer lips several times before he slides his tongue up her slit. He presses against her inner thighs and spreads her legs obscenely wide, then slips his middle finger into her - they both moan in reaction - then he licks up and down each side of her slit, purposely avoiding her clit, _teasing, teasing, teasing,_ while he adds his ring finger and starts to thrust, searching for the correct angle, until _\- ooooh! there! -_ he hits it and makes her hips jerk in response. After a few thrusts of his fingers Robin starts to rub her swollen, sensitive clit with the thumb of his other hand, that sweet, white-hot burn way deep down inside of her starts to catch, turning from hot bursts into _more_ , heat starting to radiate out now, the lips of her sex swollen and tingling, wetness running from where he’s fingering her, thrusting in earnest now and curling his fingers hard. Regina rocks her hips in rhythm, one hand threaded in her hair, the other stroking down her neck and further, across her sensitive stomach as she pants, her excitement apparent as she approaches her peak.

“Ready for me?” Robin asks, his voice is gravelly and low, his lips red and swollen as he looks up at her from between her thighs.

Her chest is heaving and she’s so conflicted - not wanting to stop because she’s close, but wanting to feel that stretch that always feels _so_ incredible when he slides into her. “Yeah,” she nods, hands shaking as she cups her breasts, her knees falling to the side as he shifts up onto his knees.

Robin grabs a pillow and shoves it under her lower back - she’s learned to just let him do things like this, it seems to be worth it - but then he tugs her to him and he pushes up on the backs of her thighs, her knees bending, and he tells her, “Put your hands where mine are and hold your legs like this, love.”

And she is absolutely not doing that. No way in _hell_. Regina glares at him.

“Please?” he asks.

Regina arches an eyebrow. “You want me to hold my legs open for you? I’m a witch, not a whore, Robin,” she snaps, completely offended.

Robin drops his chin to his chest and tries, “No, it’s, this isn’t implying you’re, it’s not at all, uh, _fuck_. This is, it’ll let me hit that sensitive spot until you come _really_ hard - let me try at least?”

He’s not fooling her with this. “No.”

He sighs and says, “Have it your way, darling,” and Regina feels smug in her victory, finally having won one of these outrageous debates. _Hold her legs open for him_. How ridiculous.

It backfires immediately.

Because what ends up happening instead, is Robin keeps _his_ hands on her thighs, using them as leverage as he slides his - _ohhh goddd -_ thick length inside of her, pulling back and slowly working in and out, in and out, coating himself inch by inch until he’s fully slathered in the vast amount of slickness she’s made for him. He feels huge - he _is_ big, much bigger than her fingers, much bigger than anything she is used to, so as he works into her, with her hips tipped up from the pillow and her legs forced _waaay_ wide open, he gets deep, brushing against her g-spot and stroking what feels like every nerve ending both on the way in _and_ out. She feels _so full_ , and in a matter of seconds she’s burning up with arousal - her nipples untouched but peaked anyway, her chest and cheeks flushed, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat as she tries to rotate her hips to get a little relief. She’s stretched so tight, god she’s taking her limit, and she’s _so limited_ because of how he’s got her spread open, held down fast to the bed as he picks up the pace, his big hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs, her calves dangling over his forearms. She’s completely helpless - she’s using one hand to brace against the headboard and the other to rub her clit between his thrusts, which are now coming faster-faster-faster, and _hard, hard, hard, hard_.

“You like it hard like this?” He pants, shifting so his legs are stretched out behind him, his body weight braced on her as he hammers down mercilessly. “You like me pounding into you? Wrecking you? You’re so fucking tight, stretched so wide you can barely take me. You like when I hold you down and fuck you? You like having your pussy lips spread and your slick cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

Regina nods but can’t talk, she’s close - _jesus_ \- she’s so close, just another stroke - _oh -_ another and - _mmm -_ yeah, another - so close, _so close_. Her arousal climbs and he fucks her faster, drops back to his knees and takes the pressure off of her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs instead as he goes deep and stays deep, thrusting fast, and oh - _oh god -_ that’s, there’s - _yes_ \- that’s it - _mmm_ \- oh god, the heat builds and builds, and _spikes_ ; she’s comes hard and fast, her inner muscles clamping and releasing over and over on him as he slows his strokes, staying deep and taking the repetitive spasms as she arches her back, moaning, her fingers rubbing vigorously over her clit, getting another shiver - _oh, oh fuck -_ another rush of wetness and hard clench, her legs shaking and then - _oh god_ \- another one, before - _ohhh_ \- she finally starts to calm, is able to take a deep, shuddering breath and relax back down against the bed as Robin rocks slowly into her, tugging the pillow out from under her, then leaning forward so he’s laying on top of her and thrusting lazily, kissing her lips, her cheek, her chin, her neck; his fingers playing with her nipples and stroking slowly along her side as she settles beneath him.

“Alright, my darling?” he asks after a few minutes, hiking her leg up over his hip and smiling down at her.

All she can do is _Mmhm_ in response, feeling a little sleepy and _a lot_ satisfied.

“As much as I’d love to finish like _this_ ,” he says, thrusting a little harder, snapping his hips in a sharp, punctuated motion that makes her breath catch, “And I very,” - _thrust -_ “Easily,” _\- thrust -_ “Could,” _\- thrust_ \- Robin stays buried in her, and she rolls her hips up at him, ready for more - those deep, hard thrusts riling her up again, her abused inner muscles already wanting to be used again. God, how she _craves_ him.

“But even though I want to, and _god_ , do I ever, I really shouldn’t,” he says quietly.

Regina cranes her neck up so she can kiss his lips, then his scruffy cheek, stroking her hands up the muscular planes of his back as she nods her agreement with what he says. She also feels like she wants him to finish inside of her, and she feels a little sad that he can’t, even though she knows that they absolutely cannot risk a child, _especially_ not now. She’s never experienced that, and she would have liked to have experienced how that felt for the first time with Robin, would have liked it to have been _him_ specifically, and it’s disappointing that it won’t be.

But he doesn’t know that it won’t be him, and a wave of guilt washes through her that she doesn’t know how to deal with, so she stupidly says, “How do you want to finish, baby? I’ll do it however you want this time.”

 

 


	27. Chapter Twenty-Five - The Note, The Box, and the Parchment

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five - The Note, The Box, and the Parchment

 

 

The second Regina tells him that she’s open to suggestion, he wants to pinch himself to make sure he really isn’t dreaming as a hundred sordid ideas flood his brain.

 _Christ_ , she’s the perfect woman, even with her pompous attitude about the completely valid sexual positions he tries to put her in (which he will gladly continue to prove her wrong about).

He wants to fuck her mouth, or her arse again; he wants to oil up and fuck between her tightly closed thighs; wants to slide his cock through the cleft of her arse until he comes, watch those round cheeks surrounding his length; he wants her to jerk him off as many times as possible and let him paint her with his come; he wants to tie her up, hold her down, restrain her in a thousand different ways - gag her, bind her, paddle her, and _fuck_ , let her do the same to him. There is literally _no_ way in which he doesn’t want to fuck Regina - he’s not really a bloke who’s into fetishes but he’s willing to try anything with this woman. She’s too bloody gorgeous, too hot, too insanely wonderful to let any opportunity pass. So trying to pick _one_ of these options is incredibly difficult, especially when he’s still got his cock buried inside of her, rigid as hell, trying not to come, even though when he closes his eyes and lets his guard down, he just _knows_ that someday, their children are going to be fucking adorable. They’re going to be the cutest kids ever.

Robin finally settles on an idea that won’t leave them in a compromising situation, and it’s one which he’s pretty sure she’ll go for, so he reluctantly slips out of her - they both groan at the loss - and he leaves the bed for a moment but returns quickly, holding a small ceramic dish with a clear liquid in it.

He sits next to her and holds the dish out, uncertain what’s offensive and what’s not when it comes to this sort of thing. “Could you… Is it polite for me to ask you to heat this up for me?” he asks.

Regina smiles softly and tells him that it’s not offensive as long as he asks _nicely_ , holding out her hand for it, and he thinks he has her approval.

“Not scalding, just nice and warm, if you please? It’s oil - I’d like to give you a massage of sorts.”

She raises an eyebrow and heats the little dish using magic fire that she creates in her palm, then hands it back to him. He doesn’t know why but when she does little magic things like that it turns him on, always impresses him, always makes him want to ask her to show him more. She’s perfect without her magic, but with it, it’s like this little extra sparkle that just makes her even more uniquely beautiful. _Christ_ he loves her.

“Lay back, love,” he instructs, and when she narrows her eyes suspiciously at him he has to fight back the grin that’s threatening to appear. He's quite certain that what he’s actually going to do isn’t going to be nearly as licentious as whatever it is she’s imagining he’s going to do. He sets the little bowl on the bedside table, then dips his fingers into the warm liquid, scooping up a nice amount and quickly bringing it to her chest, drizzling the oil down her sternum, then around her nipples, licking his lips in satisfaction as the slippery fluid starts to run down the swells on all sides.

He dips his fingers in the oil several more times and drips it on her, smoothing it all over her chest until her tits are thoroughly coated, slippery, shiny and deliciously round in the flickering firelight - _fuck that’s hot_ \- and then he takes one in each hand, and starts to knead.

Regina makes that low hum that always makes his cock twitch, that noise that never fails to make him hard (when he isn’t already), and he concentrates on her nipples, swiping his thumbs quickly over them as they tighten into stiff little peaks.

“I’ve fucked your cunt,” he rasps, pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefingers and rubbing, “and I’ve fucked your arse,” Robin shifts so he’s straddling her waist, massages her tits for a moment, then strokes his cock, getting it slick with the oil as he studies her eyes, which are dark with arousal, and also with what he hopes is curiosity. He goes back to her tits and cups them, squeezes them firmly together, teases her nipples for a moment, then looks her straight in the eyes and says, “Now, since you’re giving me the choice, I want to fuck these perfect tits.”

Regina’s brows furrow almost comically, and Robin goes back to her nipples, playing with them, flicking and stroking as he explains, “I’m going to hold them together like this,” he puts his hands on the sides of her breasts and presses the thick flesh together, “And then I’m going to thrust my cock right between them while you, darling wife, rub your perfect little clit until you climax.”

Her eyes widen a bit, and Robin plays with her tits for a moment, kneading her, stroking her warm, slippery skin down to her ribs then back up, waiting for her decision.

“Um,” she starts, “That’s acceptable but,” she hesitates, biting on her swollen bottom lip in what he now recognizes as a nervous action. Her dark brown eyes meet his as she says quickly, yet firmly, “But I want to be the one to hold them while you, _you know_.”

“You uh…” Robin’s a bit taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. “You want to hold your tits for me while I fuck them?”

Regina nods, her face very serious. “This is supposed to be for you, right? Well, I want to be the one to do it, then. I don’t want to just lay here like an invalid while you do all the work.”

He grins because she’s so audacious and he just can’t help but be impressed by her, then he agrees without further hesitation. He is _not_ stupid enough to fight her on this. If she wants to hold her perfectly rounded, deliciously plump, mouth-watering, wet-dream-inducing tits while he thrusts his cock between them, he is absolutely _not_ going to stop her.

“Ready?” he asks, aching for release. If he doesn’t come soon he may die, he’s beyond rigid now, the skin of his shaft bright red and overly sensitive. That early on blowy she gave him bought him some time, but he’s pretty sure his time is well past due now. This woman is a bloody siren.

Regina nods and moves her hands, and her tits, into position like he showed her, and _fuck_ , isn’t she just the prettiest picture ever? Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes and hair all gorgeous and dark, lips and nipples swollen, tits shining and waiting for him. He shimmies up the bed a bit on his knees, getting into position - it’s been a long fucking time since he’s done this - strokes himself with his hand a few times then lines up with the bottom swells of her breasts and thrusts forward, nice and easy, so she can get a feel for it. He gives her a few strokes to make sure she’s got it, then tells her, “Gotta,” he moans, he’s _so_ hard, “Gotta fuck you, _christ_ , you ready for more?” and when she flashes him that brilliant smile he loves so bloody much, he actually moans and starts fucking her perfect tits in earnest.

It’s easy to thrust fast this way - he can’t really hurt her, she’s in charge of the tightness, and fuck, she’s squeezing so tight, it’s bloody fantastic. He lets himself forget about restraint, just lets go and shoves his dick between her plump tits over and over, flicking at her nipples and watching himself disappear in her cleavage while her gorgeous feminine fingers obediently hold them for him. God, he’s close, but he doesn’t want to forget about her, wants this to be good for her too, so he leans back as he continues to thrust, traces his hand over her hip and down to her core, playing with her swollen sex until he finds her clit and rubs mercilessly fast, hoping to speed her along and get her off again either before, or while he comes.

“You’re wet again, darling,” he rasps, his cock throbbing, balls tightening, “Your body is begging me for more, you already want my cock inside of you again. Your pussy is jealous of your tits.”

She _Mmm’s_ and he feels her hips roll, knows that’s a good sign, so he keeps rubbing her clit fast, trying to focus and make those little swirls she likes, but fuck, he’s so hard, her tits are _sooo_ slippery and from this angle he can see the way they bounce so sweet as he fucks into them, oh god.

“Gonna come so bloody hard, love,” he pants, “Not gonna be able to stop this time.” Robin rubs faster and faster on her clit, dipping down to gather more of her wetness, spreading it around a bit then flurrying over her sensitive little nub again as her hips jump under his touch. He can feel the tingling in his balls starting that rush in his lower abdomen.

“Tell me you want it inside of you,” he demands. “Tell me you want my come inside of you even though you know we can’t.”

Regina sucks in a quick breath beneath him, her eyes closed as she says on a high pitched gasp, “ _Mm_ I want it.”

“How much?” he asks, “Tell me how much you want it.”

He’s not going to last, he can’t play games, doesn’t know why he’s even trying - he’s going to blow his load any second.

“So much,” she whines, her hips bucking under his fingers, “Want you to come for me, want you to put it in me anyway, please, _please_ put it in me, want it so bad, baby, please give it to me.”

Holy-fucking-hell. The sound of Regina begging for that? _Christ_.

He thrusts between her perfect tits again and comes _hard_.

He sits up quickly, pumping his cock fast with his hand and huffing out a harsh breath as he strokes himself to completion. He spills on her chest, where she’s still obediently holding her gorgeous tits together for him, coating her dark nipples with streams of his white come, watching with satisfaction as it runs down, while he continues to unload on her, _god_ he’s coming hard, until he’s finally done, her tits are obscenely covered in it and his cock is much too sensitive to stroke anymore.

He catches a deep breath then looks at the mess he’s made on her. “Keep just like that for a moment, please?” He whispers, needing to indulge himself as he reaches out to rub his come over her nipples, mixing it with the oil and smoothing it around a bit easier than it normally would.

“ _Fuck,_ darling, this is, _god_ , this is like, the ultimate fucking dream. I cannot think of anything hotter than what I’m looking at right now. You’re so pretty with your tits on display, covered in my come and your needy wet cunt just waiting for me.”

She gives him a dubious look but he can’t help it, he needs another minute of indulgence, and he slides down to run his tongue through her slit, lapping at the vast wetness he finds there, god she tastes good. He gathers it up on his tongue but doesn’t really swallow it all down before he climbs back up the bed.

“I’ve got your taste in my mouth,” he says simply, running his fingers through his spunk on her chest. “How about a taste, love?”

Regina shakes her head no, so he circles her nipple with two fingers, gathering up his fluid and holding it up to her lips. “Mine then?” he asks, and she hesitates, but then she opens her mouth, and when he slips his fingers between her teeth, like a good girl, she sucks them clean. _Fuck._

He plays with her other nipple, gathering up more of his come, then drops his hand to her sex and rubs it through her slit. She tenses, and he knows why - all their talk of him _giving it to her_ having been strictly heat of the moment, he knows - but he’s not going to clarify that, it takes the rush out of it. Instead he comes back up to her tits and gathers more of his come, then rubs it all over her sex, keeps repeating the motion until he’s relocated the majority, while at the same time he’s worked her back up a bit, swiping and teasing over her clit each time. He starts rubbing her firmly then, wanting to get her off for being so good to him, and he tells her, “This is what it would be like,” he rubs their joint wetness down her thighs, “If I came inside of you, this is what it would feel like, you’d be a soaked mess, my come would run down your thighs like this, your own wetness mixed in, you’d be drenched, you’d ruin your knickers with it, but I’d make you keep them on, I’d make you stay in them, make you keep my come pressed right against you for as long as possible, because that’s where it belongs, isn’t it? It belongs deep inside of you, darling, isn’t that right? My come belongs in you, and you alone, my love.”

“Yes,” she agrees, working her hips as he whorls his fingers over her clit, wanting to finger her but he can’t risk it now. “In me, it belongs in, _ah, mmm_ , in me, _s’mine_.”

“That’s right,” he soothes, “Yours. Only yours, and you can have it any time you want, yeah? You need only ask and I’ll give it to you, I’ll give you anything you want, any time of day, anywhere we are,” he kisses her neck, nips the top of her shoulder.

“Anywhere,” he repeats, “The hallway,” he rubs her clit a bit more firmly, and she moans, murmurs, _ohhh just like that_ , “The stables,” she’s so wet it’s running down to her arse, _jesus-bloody-christ_ , “I’ll fuck you on Snow White’s throne in the middle of your coronation if you ask me to love. I’ll fuck you, and I’ll come for you, in you, on you, whenever, and wherever you want. I love you, my darling.”

She makes these desperate _Ahh, ahh, ahh’s_ , as he tells her all of this, her legs shaking all the while, then she comes, burying her face in his neck, her arms wrapping tightly around him and pulling him down onto her as she shudders apart. She’s incredible, and he loves that she’s clinging to him like this, like she’s holding onto him for dear life, her face pressed to the crux of his shoulder, her arms and legs tight around him as she shakes beneath him and her body floods with the pleasure he gave to her.

Robin reaches blindly for the blankets and tugs them up over them, not caring that they’re both a sticky mess. It’s late and they can bathe in the morning - right now he needs to snuggle the hell out of his wife and there isn’t a single thing in this realm that can separate them now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Robin wakes, she’s gone.

He’s not immediately concerned - Regina left him a note that she’s gone to take care of a few things, and that she’d like to meet up with him in the westward tower for luncheon. So, he goes about his morning without a second thought for it, and heads for the tower at noon, excitement sparked in his belly at the idea of having more time alone with her so soon after her return. He’s really missed her and can’t wait to catch up; he wants to know all about her time with Maleficent, and the story of how she managed to turn Snow’s arm back to normal (a transformation that occurred while Regina was still away in the The Moor’s, mind you) is definitely one he wants to hear.

He ascends the winding staircase, two steps at a time, his heart as light as his feet, a brand new chess set he had specially made for them (one set of the pieces is purple amethyst, the other is obsidian black quartz) tucked under one arm. He can’t wait to show her - he thinks she’s really going to like the purple, she’s been favoring that color a lot lately, has been pairing it with black and it really suits her.

When he reaches the large wooden door he finds it locked, and he feels like a complete berk, because he didn’t bring a key - he hadn’t expected to need one. Thankfully, he’s got a small set of picks on him so he works the rusty lock with those, unwilling to turn around to go back for a key or his better set of tools, because it will postpone his meeting with Regina, who could very well already be inside. It takes him a few minutes and one very solid vow to change this bloody lock, but eventually he gets the door open, and the second he enters, confusion consumes him.

The room is well lit - in addition to the hearth, which is glowing brightly with a large fire, there are several new-looking candelabras that are also lit, adding a plethora of light to the room. There is an ornate wall mirror, and a small table in the center of the room, upon which Robin sees a small, pinewood box, a rolled up piece of parchment, and a sealed letter with his name written on it. Otherwise, the room is empty.

He heads to the table, sets down the chess set and picks up the letter, his curiosity getting the best of him as he recognizes Regina’s handwriting, causing him to skip over the other two items and break the wax seal. He scans over the words quickly, his interest quickly morphing from excited curiosity to heartbreaking dread as he reads her words and realizes what last night meant, then looks to the table with a mixture of awe and horror at the objects she has left for him.

Robin pockets the letter - he will need it later, will need to read it again to be sure that it’s real and that this isn’t just some terrible nightmare, to prove to himself that he has indeed lost her for good this time. He reaches for the box first - the less terrible of the two remaining items on the table - and cracks the lid.

Inside the light colored, innocent looking container, just as Regina described in her letter, is the glowing, still-beating heart of Snow White.

Robin takes a moment to stare at it, to watch the steady _tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump_ as it awkwardly jolts against the edges of the box, leaving little dark red blood splotches on the inside walls of the polished wood. He curls his lip in hatred of his niece and snaps the lid shut with a resounding _click_.

The last item that awaits him is one that he wants nothing to do with, for it is one of his own doing, one that he gave to her of his own free will, though he wishes now that he had not. He has no choice but to confirm what she wrote to him in her letter, he _must_ verify it for himself, so he summons his courage and grabs it roughly, wrinkling the thick paper as he pulls off the string that keeps it rolled, then uncurls it. The clink of metal upon stone is jarring as something falls out of the rolled paper and onto the stone floor, his stomach lurches when the signature lines finally come into view and he sees his own name, signed and dated, then the chancellor’s, two witnesses, and, to his absolute despair, he sees Regina’s name, her signature written perfectly across the given line in that big cursive flowing script she uses, along with today’s date.

He sinks to his knees as he stares at her name, at the choice she has made for them. It cannot be said that she hasn’t fulfilled her end of their agreement, for she certainly has given him his revenge on Snow White; in fact, she has done more than that - she has handed over Snow’s life for him to do as he sees fit. Her letter explains that she has enchanted Snow’s heart, that with it in his possession he can control the brat, that he can make her do whatever he wants - or, he can simply kill her. The choice is his. This gives him an enormous variety of ways in which he can take his revenge, an infinite number of options by which he can torture the girl who ruined his life so many years ago, who purposely got his Marian killed, who took such pleasure in ending the life of a woman whose only wrongdoing was in loving him. It’s the _perfect_ revenge - Robin cannot possibly have asked for something better.

Her letter also tells him that Snow White has been instructed via her enchanted heart to believe that Regina is dead, and that when asked, Snow will tell everyone a very detailed story about how Regina died alongside Snow’s ladies-in-waiting. Regina asks that Robin keep this secret to himself, since Cora will certainly come looking for Regina should there be any chance of her being alive.

The letter goes on to say that in the meantime, Regina is taking the out that Robin offered to her. Her letter describes how on the night he told her he loved her, that she was overcome with happiness that he finally expressed what she had felt since before they were married; however, she was crushed when he offered her the dissolution of their marriage. She had in no way thought about, or wanted that, and when she learned the story of Robin’s devotion to Marian, when she realized what kind of love he was truly capable of, she saw that the love he was giving to her was not nearly to his fullest capacity, and a half-arsed love story was not what she wanted.

Regina’s letter explained that she wants them _both_ to have the kind of love that Robin once had with Marian - she wants them _both_ to have that sort of devotion, to feel the way that Robin felt - to fight for each other without question, to be unable to imagine living without each other. And since Robin is not willing, or perhaps not able, to do such a thing for Regina, as exemplified by his easy offer of ending their marriage without blinking an eye at it, this is clearly not that kind of love.

Regina told him in her letter that she loves him, she repeated it several times, actually - each iteration making his heart break a bit more, making him cry like a bloody idiot - as she explained that she would have fought for him, that she feels like she might die without him, that she doesn’t know how to move on because he is her _best friend_ \- but she will find a way, because she wants him to find someone who makes him as happy as Marian did. Regina told him that now she knows that she is not that person, and she will be damned if she stands in the way of whoever that is.

Her letter thanks him, tells him how grateful she is that she’s gotten to spend these weeks with him, for how patient and sweet he has been with her, for all of the thoughtful things he’s done for her, and all the things he’s taught her. She thanks him for being understanding in the bedroom, for making her laugh, and for being a gracious loser at chess. She even praises him for his noticeable progress on horseback, then makes a quip about him being the ‘kind’ one of the two brothers, and Robin has to clench his fists to stop from making a noise that might otherwise be called a sob. He has never hated himself more than in this moment.

She tells him lastly that during her time with him she has learned a lot about herself, that she has discovered a side of herself that she knew was there, but was too afraid to admit to. Regina confesses that this is something she needs to explore, and she fully intends to do so, which is why she cannot be his queen, even if she could have stayed his wife. She is heading off on a journey to discover this darker side of herself, to investigate this power that she’s only just begun to tap into, to let this part of her personality come out, to let herself just _be herself_ , instead of who she is “supposed” to be, and she is looking forward to figuring out just what it means to finally be _free_.

Regina ends the letter with a wish for his wellness and his successful reign, telling him how proud of him she is and how he was _never second best_ to her. Then she writes him one last, _I love you, Robin the Hood_ , that he feels deep down in his _soul_ , and he immediately starts to dry heave with the acute feeling of loss that washes through his gut. He tips forward onto his hands to brace himself as his stomach heaves, trying and failing to catch his breath, and something sharp digs into his palm. When he lifts his hand he discovers that it’s the object that fell from the writ of dissolution as he unrolled it, and when he picks up his wife’s wedding ring with hands that shake violently, there is nothing in the world that can stop the scream from tearing from his lungs.

Robin doesn’t even remember leaving the tower that night. He doesn’t remember going to Granny’s, doesn’t remember breaking his hand, doesn’t remember a bloody fucking thing. All he knows is that _everything hurts_ when he wakes up the next day with a pounding headache and his hand all bandaged as Granny pulls his arse out of bed by the ear, sets him down at the nearest table in the tavern and snaps at him to explain himself.

In addition to Granny, much to Robin’s hungover chagrin, Ruby, John, and Will are also at the table, and he suddenly feels very put on the spot.

“Alright there, Robin?” Will tries, and Robin winces with the noise, trying not to vomit.

“What’re you all doing here?” Robin asks, suspicious as to why everyone is staring at him like he’s some sort of animal on display. “What’s this about?”

“You tell us,” Ruby says, cutting straight to the point in pure Ruby fashion. “You came in here last night, drunk off your ass, freaking out about how _she’s_ gone, and how you can’t live without _her_ , and when John reminded you that Marian has been dead for five years, you punched him in the face, and starting screaming about _Regina_.” Robin looks to John, who is sporting a _very_ fresh black eye. “So, mind telling us what the fuck that’s about?”

 _Oh christ_.

He’s not sure what to say, but everyone is staring at him expectantly, and he knows this crowd - they are never going to let him get away with coming in here, causing a scene like he did and then not explaining himself. Robin thinks hard for a moment, then realizes he’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and he takes the easy way out. He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out Regina’s letter, then hands it to Granny.

Granny frowns but opens the letter, summarizing it aloud for the rest of the group to hear. It’s an act of courtesy - John and Will can’t read - they were both born peasants in Sherwood and and never had a need for it, so it’s not done to be cruel, it’s a necessity to get everyone on the same page, since Robin is too much of a coward to tell them himself.

When Granny finishes the letter she hands it back to Robin, who has his head resting in his hands, feeling completely miserable, inside and out.

“I don’ get it,” Will says, “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Ruby and Granny both scoff loudly.

“Wha?” Will asks, “He’s got ‘is revenge, and he doesn’t ‘ave to put up with havin’ a wife he never wanted now either. Isn’t that better?”

“No,” Ruby snaps.

Will looks flabbergasted. “Why the fucking hell not?”

Ruby gives him a very haughty look and says, “Because he loves her, stupid.”

Will makes a face at her, thinks for a second, but then argues, “But if he loves ‘er, why did he give ‘er the, uh, wedding paper thingie?”

“I don’t have a clue why the hell he gave her that,” Ruby says, turning back to Robin. “What were you thinking?”

Robin feels very attacked. “She kept saying she wanted to be free to make her own choices, and then she said she didn’t think I would hold up my end of our agreement, so I thought it would show her that I could be trusted, that I was serious about what I said.”

Granny cuts in, “If she chose not to be queen, did your agreement include the dissolution of your marriage? Did she know she could walk away, no strings attached?”

Robin pauses, “Well, I…” he thinks back. “I mean, that’s certainly inferred - I wouldn’t make her stay married to me if she wanted to go elsewhere.”

“But you never said that?” Ruby asks.

“Well, not explicitly,” Robin admits, confused what this has to do with anything.

Granny and Ruby exchange a _look_ , and Robin’s temper flares.

“What?” he asks, then looks to John, who is shaking his head at Robin, as if he’s a complete fool. Robin looks to Will, but Will just shrugs and seems as confused as Robin is, so he looks back to Granny and asks again, “What?!”

“Oh my god, Robin, you’re such an idiot,” Ruby groans, “Didn’t you read the letter?”

“Of course I read the bloody letter!” he cries, slapping his hands flat on the table in utter frustration.

“You’ll watch your tone and your attitude, Robin Alexander, or you’ll find your next drink of the same variety as the one that made Leopold tip over, catch my drift?” Granny growls, and everyone turns to stare at the elderly woman who just implicated herself in causing the ‘heart attack’ that killed the king of Misthaven. Not that anyone here would turn her in for it.

Granny ignores them and puts her hand over one of Robin’s, her wrinkled, calloused fingers surprisingly strong as she holds tightly to his.

“Robin, we’ve all been together for a long time, and I consider you one of my own. We’re a little family, and we love you, even when you don’t make very good decisions. So hold your tongue, my boy, and I’ll explain this to you one time.” She pauses, looking at him over her glasses as she continues, “You made a deal with Regina. If she marries you, she doesn’t have to return to that wretched mother of hers, and in exchange, she’ll get you your revenge on Snow. Once this is done, she can be queen, or she can leave. This is the deal, yes?”

Robin nods dumbly.

“As it were, the two of you grew close; she learned all about your love for Marian and how hard you took it when she died. She fell in love with you, and you with her. And when things got the slightest bit complicated, you handed her an easy way to end your marriage - a marriage that you never explicitly told her she always had the option to end.”

Robin shrugs, still not getting it.

John pipes up from across the table. “She thinks ya don’t love ‘er as much as Marian - thinks when things got tough, you took the easy way out, and if she’da been Marian, you’da never given ‘er those papers, mate.”

_Oh fuck._

Through the haze of bad decisions and complicated situations he finds himself in, Robin finally understands where Regina is coming from, finally gets why she’s gone, finally sees why she held him so close the night before last and called him _husband_ , and _my dear_ , and _baby_. He finally understands why she cried when he talked about having children, and why she kissed the breath from his lungs when he said, _I love you_.

He finally understands why he lost her.

 

 


	28. Chapter Twenty-Six - The Insane Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - Violence, Murder

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Insane Prince

 

 

Robin makes his way back to the castle on Rocinante as quickly as possible. He needs to get back and figure out what to do about Snow, needs to take action quickly now that he has possession of her heart, and he needs to make Snow spread word of Regina’s death. According to Regina’s letter, Snow’s ladies in waiting are also dead, and he has no idea what happened to the other girls, but regardless of his errors with Regina, he fully intends to keep her secret, and he will not mess this up for her, so there can be no further delay in announcing her ‘demise’. He’s got to get back and figure out what happened, he’s got to get this whole thing sorted so he can give Regina the best chance possible at this freedom she so craves and most definitely deserves.

His hangover is killer, but Granny gave him some herb in his eggs that has helped immensely, along with a little hair of the dog, so he’s well enough to ride without feeling like he’s going to throw up. His hand isn’t actually broken, just bruised, thank god, and he apologized profusely to John before leaving, to which John, in his characteristically calm, quiet demeanor told him simply, “S’alright Rob, it’s just a good thing my face is harder than your delicate girlish hand.” Robin smiles at the interaction – since he was twelve years old John has always understood him best, has always been his closest friend; even when he was with Marian, John was still his best friend, he always held that special title, completely uncontended – up until Regina showed up.

Now it is her that he thinks of when that term comes to mind. It’s quiet evenings playing cards or chess, laughing and teasing and flirting with her; it’s her chastising his terrible riding skills while he secretly tries to correct his form, to study the way she holds her legs or her back or her feet; it’s chatting and joking with her at dinner; it’s touching her, tasting her, making love to her; it’s sliding his fingers into her thick black hair and pressing his lips to her neck as he breathes in the tantalizing scent of her. It’s that little smile he gets when he hears the sound of her voice, the way he can never seem to stop touching her, the way he sees something and wonders if she’d like it, then makes a point to ask her or show her so he can find out. He has to swipe the tears off of his cheeks and force himself stop thinking about her - it will do him no good to torture himself like this when she is already gone because he could not – because he _would not_ – show her just how valuable she is to him.

He’s not quite sure where to find Snow, so he starts with the obvious and heads to her bedchambers, but does not find her there. He knows the girl is fond of the observatory; she enjoys the vegetation, but especially the songbirds that somehow wiggle their way into the room as the summer starts to fade into this cooler fall weather, so he checks there next. What he finds is one of the strangest scenes he has ever come upon in his life.

Snow is there, as is James (who Robin didn’t even know was in his Kingdom right now, let alone his castle), and half a dozen or so dwarves, whose presence almost makes Robin roll his eyes; they have always been huge supporters of Snow on account of the outrageously condescending attention she pays to them, which for some reason, they seem to adore.

 

Everyone else in the room is dead.

 

It’s odd though, there isn’t a drop of blood on anyone, no stench of death, though from the vacant, open eyes and slack bodies, the women are all definitely lifeless. Robin pulls up sharply in the doorway, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Uncle!” Snow calls from across the room. “Thank goodness you’ve come!”

Robin’s eyes fall to the body of a dark-haired woman in a lavender dress laying face down in the middle of the room, and though he knows better, he knows that it isn’t really her, he feels the blood drain from his face anyway.

“What in the bloody hell happened?!” Is all he gets out before Snow launches into her story, just as Regina’s letter said she would.

As Snow recants her tale of how his “insane wife” tried to murder her, Snow’s voice high and almost giddy with excitement as she tells him every excruciating detail, Robin walks the room slowly, looking over the bodies of Snow’s ladies in waiting. Each one looks completely healthy – there are no visible wounds, no cuts, no bruises, nothing but a bit of tear tracks and smeared makeup, and a small pile of ash setting on top of each one’s chest.

“She was completely crazed, Robin, she came in here with full intent to murder me, but each of my ladies, my poor, sweet, loyal ladies threw themselves in front of me, sacrificed themselves as she came after me - but she didn’t care. She killed them without mercy, she ripped their hearts out of them – _right out of their chests_! Oh, it was so frightening! She was pure evil, I tell you, pure evil! _Oh, James_!” Snow throws herself dramatically into James’ waiting arms, hugging him tightly for a moment before she pulls back, wiping away tears that Robin can tell from twenty feet away don’t actually exist.

“I knew from the very first day Daddy brought her here that she was no good,” Snow says haughtily, “I knew it, I even told Daddy that she wouldn’t fit in here, that she wasn’t good enough for our kingdom, but –“

“Enough!” Robin shouts, he will be damned if this sniveling, arrogant chit will speak poorly of his wife (well, his _former_ wife) in front of him. God, he hates Snow. How the hell can one person be so self-centered? The room grows silent in response to his outburst and he asks, “What happened after that? How did she… how did she die?”

Snow perks up at that, standing straight, tipping her chin heavenward and puffing up like a bloody peacock as she tells him, “Well, she tried to take my heart too, but I stood up to her, and the second she touched me, there was this bright flash of light - it was so bright that for a second I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear her yelling,” Snow looks to James dreamily, “She kept saying that my heart was too pure, that she couldn’t touch it because it was too good,” Snow looks back to Robin and narrows her eyes, “And then the light abated and when I could see again, she was dead on the floor.” Snow glares at the body that is supposed to be Regina, curls her lip in disgust and looks back to Robin. “Serves her right for being a nasty, evil, freak of nature.”

Robin grits his teeth and glares at Snow for a moment, then looks to James, who is staring at Snow as if she is the goddamn savior of all things that are honest and good in the world. He glances at the dwarves, already knowing that they are all going to have the same look of devotion as James, and he shakes his head in disappointment. Fools, all of them. Bloody-fucking-sheep.

And that’s the thing of it, really. That’s the thing that’s always driven him crazy, the thing that’s always irritated him most about being a member of the royal family. Everyone is a sheep. It’s a life of one-sided laws and unjust order, a life of choices made well before a person is even born, of rules made up hundreds of years ago by some prick with a gold hat who had a stick up his arse about something or other and out of spite and vindictiveness, decided to change the rules to his liking. The whole thing is a fucking joke, and there isn’t a better example of it than what he’s looking at right now.

All this time he thought that if he was in charge, if he could just take power for a moment, that maybe things could change. Maybe he could be happy, maybe he could finally sleep at night knowing that the world was a bit more fair. But he sees now that the world will never be fair, and he will never be happy - not like this, not when he’s surrounded by those who are oh-so-willing to blindly follow wherever their selfishly entitled leader finds it most beneficial for them to go, even when it is to their detriment. Robin has no respect for this life - he’s not a sheep, he’ll _never_ be a sheep. He looks at the tattoo on his forearm, studies the lion, and _fuck_ , suddenly he realizes that he doesn’t want any part of this life; he wants nothing to do with it at all.

More conflicted than ever, Robin picks up the body that is supposed to be Regina, careful to hide her face, unsure if whoever this is has Regina’s likeness or not, and without another word, he carries her from the room, a bit unsure what to do next. He wanted to get even with Snow now, but there are too many witnesses; he knows how good James is with a sword, and those fucking dwarves might be dumb but they’re quite strong, so he’ll have to figure out something else. So instead, he takes the body of his ‘wife’ and makes his departure, figuring on heading for the dungeons to figure out how to dispose of it in a way that is discrete.

The second he steps out into the hallway; however, the body disappears from his arms in a wisp of purple smoke. A small smile forms on his lips - _christ,_ that woman is incredible.

Robin heads to his room and gathers a few things – his lockpicking set, a few changes of clothes, his daggers, sword, his old bow and quiver, Snow’s heart (which apparently he hid under his pillow when he was hammered, because that’s _real_ clever), his cloak, and, at the very last second, the chess set he had intended to give to Regina. He may not have been able to give it to her, but at least when he plays it now, he can think of her and remember how lovely she was when he was lucky enough to call her his.

He heads to the stables then and saddles Rocinante, who – _Ow! Fuck!_ – bites him in the meat of his upper thigh, the mean bastard, when he’s not looking, then he pulls out Snow White’s heart, and speaks to it.

“Snow White, stop what you’re doing and come to the stables immediately. Bring no one with you, tell no one what you are doing.”

It only takes about ten minutes for her to show, which is record time for Snow White to get anywhere, honestly. She always has to take an entourage of followers with her, has to be accompanied by people to kiss her arse at all times, so to speak with her one on one is a first for the both of them.

Robin hides her heart away before she arrives, so as not to give away his secret, and prepares himself for their discussion. He wants to get this just right - he _has_ to get this just right.

Snow comes to stand before Robin in the afternoon sunlight, and Robin openly searches his black-streaked heart for the first time in a very, _very_ long time, trying to find one ounce of love for the girl. He tries to forget her selfish deeds and does his best to think of her as an adorable child with dark hair and light eyes, sitting on Eva’s lap and giggling sweetly, but there are no feelings of love that bubble up from within him. The best feeling he can muster is apathy, and he supposes that that is the best he could have hoped for, that that is going to have to be enough to in this moment for him to do what he knows needs to be done, but which goes against every fiber of his being, against every thought he has had for the past five years.

“You’re a selfish, conceited, deceitful cunt.” He tells her.

Snow’s mouth drops open in shock, her pale cheeks flaming bright red from his insult.

“Aside from your father, I have never hated another person as much as I hate you, Snow. If things were different, I would wrap my hands around your throat and I would steal the breath from your lungs, I would give you a slow and terrible death, I would string out every ounce of pain you felt. What I would do to you would make what I did to those guardsmen look utterly merciful, I would rain pain down upon you for as long as your body could withstand it so that you could feel a _sliver_ of the torture you made me feel when you took away my Marian.”

Her eyes are as wide as saucers, her mouth open in fear as Robin tells her these things.

“And if I ever have another opportunity to do it, I will not hesitate to do exactly that.”

Snow doesn’t say a word, but there are tears in her eyes, and Robin is glad for it. He wants her terrified of him, wants her absolutely petrified.

“I am mad with grief for the loss of my wife, and I am mad with grief for the death of my past love. I am unhappy, and I will continue to be unhappy for as long as I have to look at your face in the place of theirs every day. ” He glares at her, his temper simmering at the surface. “So I’m done. I concede my Regency and relinquish my title. I cannot go on this way.” He lets a spiteful smile spread across his face as he hands her his officially signed writ of succession. “I am obviously insane, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Obviously,” Snow says, immediately taking the document, a horrified expression plastered across her face. “You’re giving up your title too, just like that?”

“Just like that.”

She shakes her head. “That’s it? That’s all. You’re giving me the crown, you’re giving me the power I’m deserved, and you’re just, done?”

“Done.”

“What will you do?” she asks, eying him suspiciously.

“I’m going to join the women you took from me,” he tells her, keeping his face straight, betraying nothing. “There is no life that is worth living if i must live it without either of them.”

Snow makes a face at him and says, “Ew, oh. Well, then. You’ll understand if the crown doesn’t make any sort of official statement on the matter. You’ll be marked a missing person - you know how these things are viewed by the public. We can’t draw negative attention to that sort of thing.”

And oh, she is exactly the person Leopold always wanted her to be. She’s the perfect example of the sociopathic dictator that Robin has always despised.

“I would be highly disappointed if you did anything else,” he snaps, turning and swinging up onto Rocinante. “Goodbye, Snow. For your sake, I hope that our paths never cross again.”

With that, he turns the surly chestnut horse and spurs him out of the stable, heading into the village to speak with his family about the crazy decision he has just made.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The mug of ale she’s sipping from falls right out of Granny’s hand and goes clattering across the wooden floor when Robin tells her what he’s done. He feels a bit bad about it, but he doesn’t have time to apologize, because in the next second she’s cuffed him across the ear, then grabbed him around the waist and wrapped him up in the tightest bear hug he’s ever had in his life. She squeezes all the air from his lungs to the point that he wheezes like he’s got asthma and he feels like she might have cracked a rib or two. _Christ_ , that dark magic still lingering in her bones really gives the old lady some extra strength.

Granny, Will, and John immediately kick everyone out of the tavern in spite of the plethora of loud objections and threats that go along with it, while Ruby and Robin grab the mugs of ale and stack them up by the bar, then the five of them gather around their usual table to discuss Robin’s news.

“Holy shit,” Ruby whispers.

“Fuck,” says Will.

John’s eyes are wide with surprise, but he says nothing, and Granny’s face shines with pride.

“I’m not asking any of you to change, or to do me any favors,” Robin clarifies. “It’s just that when I saw Snow standing there with James and those bloody dwarves, with these smug smiles on their faces, I couldn’t _stand_ looking at them anymore. All I saw was how happy they all were that Regina was out of their way - like they’d just killed a prized stag, like she wasn’t even a _person_ , and I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s stupid. It’s pointless. I might be a murderer, my heart might be black and my soul dark, but at least the shit I did had a goddamn purpose behind it.”

He pauses, gathers himself and continues. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the only time I’ve ever been happy, the only really, truly good memories I have are when I’m not _Prince_ Robin, they’re when I’m _just_ Robin. So that’s all I want - that's who I want to be. So you see, if I had killed Snow, then I don’t know what would’ve happened to the throne, but I might have been forced to keep it. She wants it, so she can keep it, and at least with her on it, the people get what they bloody want.”

“Wow, mate,” Will cuts in, “You’re sure ‘bout this? All this time it’s wha’ ya said ya wanted - to murder the bitch in cold blood - and you’re just gonna hand it to ‘er now?”

“I don’t see it like that,” Robin says, shrugging. “I learned a lot from Regina, you know? In her letter she thanked me, she said she learned from me, but honestly, I learned a lot from her too. She uh, she expected a lot from me, she made me feel like perhaps I could be a bit more than what I was. She’s gone off to figure herself out, and I want to do the same. I’ve never tried to be more than what I am - but I’d like to try for once. I’d at least like to see what happens when I do.” He pauses, then admits, “And you know, Regina thinks that because I didn’t ‘fight’ that I didn’t love her as much as Marian. But the truth is I’d _give_ anything to show her how much I love her. I’d give the shirt off my back. I’d give her my crown, my title, my land, my rights, my freedom, my life - _anything_ and _everything_. So I figure, fuck, why not just do it? Why not just give it all up?”

Will still looks confused but, John is giving him a very thoughtful look and nodding as Robin speaks, and this encourages him to launch into the next part of his plan.

“So listen, I’m supposed to be dead, more-or-less, so I can’t stay in Misthaven. Too many people recognize me, even outside of this village. So I’ve got to make myself scarce.”

Ruby looks heartbroken, there are tears in her eyes as Robin continues, and he reaches out to hold her hand, feeling just as heartbroken, because he loves her like a cousin, like a _sister_ , truly.

“The best place for me to go is somewhere that no one is likely to recognize me, and since I’ve been banned from Sherwood for the past five bloody years, I’m thinking that that’s the place for me.” Granny immediately frowns, as does Will, but John raises an eyebrow, and Ruby quietly starts to let her tears fall.

“No one knows my face over there anymore. It’s been too long since the ‘hooded phantom’ went on his murderous rampage, and,” he pauses, looking to Will and to John, “There’s business in Nottingham with a certain Sheriff that needs tending to. A certain Sheriff who I hear is still in power, still terrorizing the townspeople, still needs to be taught a fucking lesson.”

Will is grinning like a fool across from him, and John has a little smirk playing on his lips as he sits across from Robin.

Ruby is trying not to, but she’s crying softly while she scolds Will, telling him, “Stop encouraging him, you ass. You’re not going, _none_ of you are going!”

“That’s right,” Granny agrees, and Ruby nods smugly. Then Granny adds, “We’re all going.”

Every single person at the table gets the same shocked look on their face, all eyes turning to the old lady sitting at the head of the table, where she boldly stares each of them down.

“This is a family,” she says simply. “We take care of each other, and we either do this together, or not at all. This is what’s best for Robin, and there’s very little impact on anyone else at this table, so we’re doing it together. Got it?”

Slowly, everyone nods, and there is a moment of complete silence, until Granny stands and snaps, “Well? Get moving! We leave at daybreak!”

 

 


	29. Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Hood and The Trickster

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Hood and The Trickster

 

 

The long, mournful howl breaks apart the silence of the cold early spring night like church bells at dawn, the eerie, unnatural noise so bone chilling that it terrifies even the bravest of souls, especially those who know the only beast truly capable of making such a call, a call that only comes when the moon is full.

Dog. Mutt. Wolf.

Close guesses, but not quite right.

She’s as fast as their horses, which Robin didn’t realize when they first included her in their raids. He had misjudged Ruby’s abilities, had mistaken her capability right out of the gate and nearly paid the price with Rocinante’s life because of it. It’s a good thing the horse is fast and that Robin has been practicing his form.

Rocinante has not let him forget the slip though, and Robin has several bite-shaped bruises and one particularly nasty hoof print on his back to prove it. The horse is a fucking terrorist.

It’s been six months since they relocated to Sherwood, and it’s risky to let Ruby transform, but it’s also in her best interest. Her cloak stops the transformation, but it bottles the dark magic inside of her, and she started to have seizures because of it, started to get more and more sick with each turn of the moon, so Robin and Granny devised a plan to include her in his raids, to let her shape-shift and release the magic so that she is healthy and doesn’t hurt anyone innocent, while Robin uses his superior archery skills to aid her. Once their targets are dispatched, Robin sends in his men to raid King Richard’s caravans, or to check the pockets of the Sheriff of Nottingham’s men, or to pilfer the coffers of Snow White’s carriages, which just happen to be being moving between kingdoms on the night of the full moon.

When the beast’s bloodlust is sated, she’s easy to catch - almost always curls into a ball with her muzzle tucked under her tail, and Robin or one of his men tosses her cloak over her from a safe distance, transforming her back, before Robin, or more recently John, gathers her up and takes her back to their hidden camp with them. The next evening is always spent in celebration of their antics at Granny’s new tavern, which is two towns over from Nottingham in a little village known as Brentwater.

Located on the edge of town, the tavern is bordered on two sides by the notoriously thick Sherwood Forest, and is perfect for ‘Robin the Hood’ and his ‘Merry Men’ to slip in and out of without much notice. He, John, Will, Alan, and Much all make camp along a very well positioned ridgeline of the forest that is completely untraceable to Granny. Most days Ruby stays with Granny at the tavern, but on full moons, Robin collects her earlier in the day and ensures her safe passage and return post-transformation.

Mostly, Robin is grateful for Ruby’s presence. There are other monsters in Sherwood Forest, monsters that sound much more terrifying than a single werewolf, if the rumors are true. Robin has heard tales of all sorts of spirits, ghosts, ghouls, and evil beings that haunt the woods, and he doesn’t scare easily, but he has seen magic up close, he has seen first hand what Regina could do, and from the little he has seen of this forest, there certainly are some strange and weird things that go on that he knows for a fact are _not_ natural.

Take, for example, the guardsman - one of Richard’s, from what he could see of the garb - that he came upon who was trapped half inside and half outside of an otherwise completely normal looking maple tree. Syrup was leaking from the man’s nose and mouth, flies and insects covering the sticky fluid, as his limbs twitched - _still alive_. He doesn’t know how the bloody hell that could have happened to the man, but he does know that that was _not_ normal. Robin was sure to give that tree a wide berth as he passed it.

Then there was the three carriage caravan (one of Snow's) he and his men came upon where every single person was sitting exactly where they should’ve been, everything completely natural, not a single hair out of place until you got up close and realized that all of their necks were broken. It was so odd, completely unsettling. Like they had all been broken at the exact same time without any warning. Robin has no idea how that could possibly have been done. He and his men can surprise attack with the best, but even he could not accomplish such a task such as this.

He doesn’t know what was taken from the caravan by the original attacker - there were several valuable trinkets and quite a bit of coin that he and his men pilfered from it, but one artifact he came upon stood out in particular, one of which he holds in his hand now. It is a bow of immeasurable worth, one that he cannot believe he has come to possess, for it is most definitely enchanted with some sort of dark magic. No matter what sort of obstacle is in his way, his arrow always finds his mark. It’s incredible, and Robin can’t quite believe his luck - it has completely changed the way he is able to do what he does, which basically is to be a giant pain in the arse to anyone who wears a title and thinks themselves better than others. He wishes he knew who to thank for making his task so much easier - his previous bow was literally older than he was - a shoddy piece of pine he inherited from one of the royal gamekeepers that looked like it might snap at any moment. Every arrow he fires from his new bow makes him think of Regina, of the beautiful magic she used to show him, of the amazing things she could do, and he wonders if she is capable of doing something like this - of enchanting an ordinary weapon into something so spectacular. He thinks she probably is - thinks there is probably very little that she _can’t_ do, and to be honest, he selfishly wishes she _had_ made this weapon. It would make him feel close to her, connected to her - there are few things he would not do to be given the honor of wielding a weapon that was made by her.

He gets Ruby settled in for the night in his tent and has a beer with John as they first discuss what went well during the raid tonight, then have the harder talk about what _didn’t_ go so well. They always have this chat even though they both hate it; it’s important to understand their weaknesses, to learn from every outing. They are all much too close to each other to allow someone to get killed, though they all know it is probably inevitable someday, especially lacking a healer or someone with any sort of rudimentary knowledge about first aid. They’re all pretty much unskilled when it comes to treating light wounds, let alone anything more severe or complex, and Robin is sure that it’ll cost them someday.

It’s late the next evening when Robin and John accompany Ruby up to the tavern to grab a few pints and deliver the funds they procured to Granny. The old lady acts as their middleman, telling Robin where to send his runners to, whether it be in this town or several towns over; in the short amount of time since they have moved here, Granny has developed an extensive network, and it’s worked well for the lot of them. They have a strict, zero-tolerance policy that is enforced by Robin and his men, who are swift and have never failed to follow through, so those who get involved with them know just how serious they are about their policy, but those who follow the rules have little to fear. The policy is harsh but simple – those who ask questions get cut off. Squealers get cut up.

The tavern is packed tonight - loud and raucous laughter bounces off the rafters as Robin leans his ornate bow against the wall and sits down with Granny at their usual table in the back corner of the room. They launch into their usual discussion about what he’s got for her and where it’s going, getting straight to business so Robin can get to cards and drinking after the stressful night he had yesterday – his little reward that Granny gives him for taking care of her grandpup so well. Granny’s got a lot of new leads this time, and that’s good, because he’s got a lot of coin for her - he pilfered the fuck out of Richard’s caravans _and_ he robbed the pants off of the Sheriff’s first lieutenants while they were patrolling the outskirts of Nottingham this week, so there is plenty of dirty money to give to people who actually deserve it.

Granny looks up and he watches something flicker over her expression, (surprise perhaps?), and he starts to turn, but then she asks him a question, trying to get him to decide where a large portion of the money should go – to a kind couple that has taken in several children orphaned by Richard’s ridiculous obsession with war, or to a skilled pair of brothers who took it upon themselves to rebuild a school that was burned down by Nottingham’s men in a drunken quarrel – so, they fall into a quiet debate over the merits of both choices. When they finish their business, Granny leaves him to hide the records and the coin Robin has brought her, and Robin waves John over, ready to start their more enjoyable evening activities. It’s supposed to be a completely routine night, one that’s just like every other night they’ve had in Sherwood, full of gambling and cards and a few drinks, and Robin has no reason to believe it will be otherwise until he grabs his bow, gets up, and weaves his way through the thick crowd to grab his first pint for the evening. That’s when Ruby grabs him by the arm, drags him behind the bar, takes a firm hold of his head, and points it at the table in the opposite corner of the room. As his eyes flit over the people sitting around the six-person table, Robin’s entire world suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Occupying the corner seat at that table, dressed in a beautifully embroidered black cloak, a royal blue riding jacket, leather pants and knee-high boots, is a woman with dark chocolate eyes, long raven hair, and a beautiful, devilish grin he’d know anywhere. She’s playing cards and, from the looks of it, she’s winning.

Someone at the table says something and she laughs, her finely arched eyebrows shooting up and her gorgeous dark eyes flashing in amusement for a moment in that way he knows all too well, and Robin’s stomach drops out in reaction. He can hear the sound of her laughter all the way across the room and he tries hard to swallow down the lump in his throat, his chest tight and his hands shaking with the adrenaline that rushes through him.

There is no question – Robin knows with one hundred percent certainty that sitting not thirty feet away from him is the woman he once had the honor of calling his _wife_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Regina doesn’t typically venture into the villages; she doesn’t really have a need to. She’s nothing if not self-sufficient – she can conjure whatever tools or material goods she needs, she can forage or kill and cook most foods, and as far as transportation, well, her teleportation skills have never been better. She has learned so much about her magic in these past six months that she never knew before, has vastly broadened her abilities and she is so thankful for it.

But in spite of all of this, there is one thing she can’t conjure, that she can’t spellcraft, can’t enchant and can’t summon – companionship. It’s been great to explore her darker personality and her magic, but the truth is, it’s also been a lonely path to tread. She’s had no one to tell all of her discoveries to, no one to share in her victories or her defeats, and she misses her friends (few though they may have been), misses talking and laughing and sharing. Regina misses interacting with people so much, that she finally caved and decided to come into this tavern tonight, so she could gamble for money she doesn’t need, just for the opportunity to talk to random strangers, to perhaps share a few laughs or some good-natured banter, or maybe if the situation arises, she’ll even come across someone who piques her interest in other ways. Friendship is not the only way in which she has been desperately lonely.

Regina glances at her cards – these idiots are making this game way too easy for her. Can’t _any_ of them count cards?

“Three sevens,” she says, laying three cards on the pile, to which one particularly ugly man with a gruff voice who is sitting diagonally across the table from her challenges, “You’re a damn cheat.”

She smirks, motioning for him to flip the cards, allowing her smile to broaden when he turns them face up on the substantial pile in the center of the table and indeed, there are three sevens looking back at him. The man’s face turns bright pink and he scoops up the cards, and in the next two rounds, Regina is once again declared the winner, earning herself a nice little pouch of gold for her mastery of her favorite bluffing game. The table clears out around her, the other players either having lost enough coin or dignity to her to abandon the game, or heading off in search of their next drink, and she busies herself with tucking away the coins she just collected before she starts sorting out the cards in front of her.

Someone sits down across from her and Regina smirks as she bridges the cards, ready to take on another sucker, but when she lifts her head, the blood drains from her face, her heart falls into her stomach, and all the air slips right out of her lungs.

 _Robin_.

She shoves back from the table in a panic and stands, but there are two large, strong hands on her shoulders that firmly push her back down, and when she cranes her neck around to see who she’s about to fireball into a pile of ash, it’s – _oh?_ – it’s John.

Shit.

It’s John and she just… she _can’t_ hurt John. He’s her friend, her favorite of all the people she knew from Misthaven, a man with a kind soul and a gentle nature, and he’s looking at her with this soft, pleading look in his eyes and, _oh god_ , she can feel herself caving, can feel her head nodding and lifting her weight as he scooches the bench forward so she’s sitting properly at the table once more.

God damnit.

Across from her, Robin bites his bottom lip tentatively and she can’t help but look when he does it, which immediately makes her think about his mouth and all the wonderful things he does with it, which in turn makes her clench in places she should _not_ be clenching. _Jesus._

“My apologies, milady,” he says quietly, ducking his head. “I did not mean to startle you. It’s been a long time, Regina, I – ”

“It’s Roni,” she corrects, adding a wry smile that she knows doesn’t meet her eyes. “Roni the Trickster.” He should be smart enough to know she can’t use her real name anymore. If Cora were to catch word…

“Oh, yes - of course,” he’s fighting a smile, and she’s annoyed by the pride she sees behind it, but then he adds, “I must have mistaken you for someone else. Might I introduce myself, then? I’m not sure we’ve met.”

He has that little smirk playing around his eyes, the one that indicates he’s teasing, but he’s also being careful with her, just like he was the first night they met, when he kicked that bag of supplies over to her because she was too afraid to go and retrieve it herself. Regina grinds her teeth and nods, unable to come up with an excuse for why they shouldn’t be speaking in the first place.

Robin holds out his hand for hers without further delay and says, “Robin the Hood, at your service.”

She is instantly furious, eyes burning in anger. Why would he say that? Why would he tease her with that? It’s just cruel to throw that in her face as if her letter, as if their love was a joke.

“Oh, that’s very funny,” she snaps, curling her lip and glaring at his hand, decidedly _not_ taking it.

“Funny?” he asks, his eyes serious as he cocks his head to the side. “Well, I must confess that’s certainly not my intention.”

She narrows her eyes, unable to figure out what he’s playing at.

“I mean it – that’s what I’m known as now. It’s not a joke, Regina - er, Roni. I’m not teasing you.” Robin sounds sincere as he drops his hand to the table, palm up and stretched out toward her in invitation.

“I don’t understand,” she argues, visibly deflating, her own hand falling to the table, drifting closer and closer to his completely against her will, like the opposite pole of a magnet, until the tips of her fingers brush against his lightly. Neither of them says anything for a moment, and the two of them just watch their hands play against one another in the charged atmosphere they’ve created, until Regina’s fingers creep slowly up and over the top of Robin’s and she takes his large, warm, calloused hand in hers. She hates herself for doing it but she can’t stop from touching him anyway; she’s been starved of him – has gone too long without the touch that she craves more than anything else in the entire realm, and now that he’s here in front of her, there is only so much she can do to resist him.

She looks up into his face, the familiar features that she hasn’t seen in what feels like _forever_ making her heart rate jump so that when he squeezes her hand, her breath catches. “What are you doing in Sherwood? Aren’t you still banned? I heard that Snow took the throne, but that doesn’t mean anything for your title.”

“I relinquished my title,” he says quietly. “And my right to the Regency. I made Snow think I was insane with grief, made her believe I was going to kill myself, which, to be honest, wasn’t entirely a lie. I killed who I was. I’m a different person now. I am no longer the Prince - I’m Robin the Hood.”

“Why?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper as she traces the lines of his palm with the tips of her fingers. She doesn’t understand what would possess him to give up what he had worked so hard to achieve. “I thought you wanted revenge. Didn’t I give you what you needed for your plan?”

“Oh, darling,” he soothes, his other hand coming up so he’s holding her hand in both of his, stroking soothingly. “Of course you did,” Robin reassures her. “What you gave me was perfect. It was incredible; it was absolutely brilliant.”

“If it was perfect, then why aren’t you king?” she challenges.

Robin gives her a sad smile that’s something between a grimace and a wince. “Because I don’t want to be.”

The sarcasm is so thick in her tone that she hears John chuckle behind her as she repeats in disbelief, “Because you don’t want to be.”

“That’s right.”

She shakes her head. Apparently, she will never understand this man.

“I have no interest in being king if you’re not interested in ruling beside me as queen,” Robin says quietly, seriously.

Regina’s heart flips over and she tries to pull her hand from between his, but he won’t let her, so she frowns at him in response.

“If uh, if I’m being totally honest, I have very little interest in doing, well, much of anything that you’re not interested in doing,” he ducks his head and bites his lips nervously.

She has to stop him – she knows what this is – he’s about to turn this into some sort of plea for her to come back to him, and she’s not strong enough to resist him right now. She’s been alone for six months, she’s lonely, desperate for company, and she still loves him, she’s still madly _in love_ with him, she won’t be able to tell him no if he so much as makes a half-coherent case to win her back.

“I explained why we can’t be together in my letter,” she says quickly. “Did you not read it? Do you not understand that we are no longer married?” Regina forces the words to be sharp, makes her tone cutting to snap him out of this romantic haze he’s trying to lull her into. “Find yourself a proper prostitute to warm your bed, _Robin the Hood_. You made a whore of me when we were wed, but I haven’t led that lifestyle since you so obligingly released me of my vows.”

He’s obviously hurt by her words, and she immediately feels guilty for it, her eyes filling with traitorous tears that force her to look up and away from him to stop them from spilling down onto her cheeks.

“I read the letter,” he says quietly, his thumb stroking across the pulse point on her wrist. One of his hands leaves her, reaches into the breast pocket of his dark green leather tunic, and he tosses something onto the table between them.

It’s her letter, and it is wrinkled and well-worn. _Oh, jesus._

“I fully understand why we are no longer married,” he continues, “But our vows were dissolved over a ruddy miscommunication.” His hand tightens on hers, and he waits for her to regain eye contact with him before continuing. Regina swallows thickly, a war of emotions positively racing through her veins in response to the fire in his eyes as he drops his voice, leans forward and says, “And to be fair, we both know that you very much liked when I made a whore of you.”

Her breath stutters out and she grips his hand tightly, holding his gaze as her face heats with arousal, a thousand sordid images flashing through her mind’s eye of the way he used her body, and alright, _yes_ , how much she liked it. Her inner muscles involuntarily clench, her clit throbs, her nipples harden in anticipation of him, and she shifts on the bench, crossing her ankles to stop herself from trying to touch his legs with hers – shit, _shit_ – she’s falling prey to him and she knows it.

Robin is staring at her mouth and she licks her lips without thinking, catching the way his eyes follow the motion, so she bites her bottom lip, scraping her teeth across it as she watches his reaction carefully, acutely aware that his desire matches her own. She needs to be careful, needs to stop this. This is _not_ what she’s supposed to be doing. She is _not_ supposed to be flirting with her former husband tonight. She is _not_ supposed to be fantasizing about his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his… _oh god_ , she has to get a grip.

Regina clears her throat. “What do you mean, it was a miscommunication?”

He tears his eyes from her lips and gives her a sad lopsided smile as he shrugs and says, “Regina, in our original agreement, you had the option to leave and live _whatever life you wanted_ \- so, as a part of that agreement, you _always_ had the option to dissolve our marriage. When you told me you were concerned that I wouldn’t hold up my end of our deal, the first thing that came to mind was to hand over my consent for dissolution in advance, so you would already have what you needed, should you chose that path. I was trying to show you that I was honorable, that I would be respectful of your decisions and of our agreement. It simply didn’t occur to me that you didn’t know about the option for dissolution. But I get it now – how could you know it was always an option if I never told you?”

Regina sighs as the pieces belatedly click into place.

“John told me later that to you, it made it seem as if I wasn’t fighting to keep you, that it made it seem like I didn’t love you, like I could just walk away from our relationship because I wasn’t invested in it. That it made it look like I loved Marian more.”

She feels lightheaded, because everything he’s saying is true. This is exactly what she thought - it’s why she had decided that they couldn’t be together. All she can do is stare at him and nod.

“See?” he laughs derisively, “Took me a bit, but I got it eventually.”

Holding her eyes with his brilliant, crystal clear blues, he says quietly, “But you know, you have a good point. I haven’t fought for you the same way I did for Marian. I know that hurts you, that it makes you feel like I don’t love you as much as I loved her.”

Robin pauses, looks to the ceiling then back at her before he continues. “But my darling, I want you to know that while I fought for Marian, while it may seem like I was more devoted to her, that’s not _at all_ true. Fighting for Marian was simple - it didn’t ask anything more of me than what I had already committed to since the time I was twelve.”

He pauses, then gives her a determined look. “Things with _you_ have been nothing but complicated since the day we met. I had to sneak about, lie, cheat, steal, call in favors, use every ounce of influence, and spend nearly every coin I had to ensure the population of half a village kept their mouths shut about us - and that was just to spend one evening with you.” He gives her a knowing little smirk and Regina can’t help but to smile back, unable to resist his charm.

“And, _christ,_ I’ve made so many bloody mistakes, and I can never just say what I mean, I get _so nervous_ , I always end up saying something that’s complete rubbish, I end up spouting off something about poisoning you, or driving you to insanity, or bringing up your wretched mother, or a hundred other awkward topics that make you think I’m a complete fuckwit, and I just, I just don’t want to compare things anymore. You and I are not Prince Robin and the tavern maid Marian. We are Robin the Hood and Roni the Trickster.” He tries to smile, gives up, shrugs, and says, “So, uh, so instead of fighting, I’m just uh, I’m giving up. I’m giving it all up. For you.”

Regina crinkles her forehead. “And that’s supposed to be better?” she asks, confused by his convoluted rambling.

Robin cringes and looks lost for words, one hand rubbing roughly across his forehead, the lines around his eyes and mouth deep with stress as his eyes flicker past Regina. She feels a hand on her shoulder and she almost jumps, then remembers that John is still standing behind her.

The large man leans down and tells her quietly, “Forgive me for the interruption, m'lady," he says, "But wha' he’s tryin' to say is, he’s given up his crown, his title, his way of life; he’s given up on tryin' to be somethin' he’s not. Instead of fightin' how he used to, he’s giving up _everything_ so he can try to be what you helped him believe he could be - he’s completely startin' fresh because he wants to do  _better,_  he wants to _be better_ for you.”

Robin nods enthusiastically and smiles hopefully as Regina stares at him in shock, completely flabbergasted by his backward logic. Only Robin could throw himself down on his sword for her and smile about it. Only Robin could happily destroy his own life for her and look as pleased as punch. Regina has no idea what to say to him - she’s not even sure what this means for them. She needs a minute to think.

“I…” she starts, pulling her hand slowly from his. “I need a moment.”

Regina stands from the table, pulls up the hood of her ebony cloak, squeezes John’s large arm as she passes by him and heads straight for the door of the tavern, purposely _not_ looking at Robin as she goes.

She can’t.

Because if she looks at him, if she gets anywhere _near_ him, she’s going to launch herself at him like a trebuchet, and there will be nothing stopping her from kissing him completely senseless in front of everyone in the tavern, courtesy of the ridiculous fluttery feeling that is positively racing through her veins right now.

Once outside, Regina strides quickly along the edge of the building and rounds the corner, then leans her back against the outer wall that faces the forest. Her chest is heaving like she’s just run several miles, she’s shaking with pent up emotion, and she hates herself for being so weak for him. She has missed him with her entire being, has been completely unable to get over him; her heart has not been able to mend itself since she last saw him - not a single stitch has held.

She takes a deep breath and makes fire in her left palm.

Sure, she knows herself better than ever now, she has developed her power and gained a good understanding of the darkness within her, but she hasn’t gotten over Robin _at all_ , hasn’t been able to look at another potential lover with anywhere near the interest she has for him.

She makes fire in her right palm. Breathe. _Breathe._

Worst of all, she wants to believe him. She wants to forgive him. Everything in her tells her to just give in, tells her that she doesn’t have to be miserable, that he’s right inside and all she has to do is go in there and take him by the hand, shove it down her pants, and –

There’s a rustling noise and Regina snaps her eyes open, blows out the fire, and when she turns her head – _oh god oh god oh god oh god_ – she sees that it’s Robin.

He approaches her slowly, without saying a word, coming closer and closer until he’s right up in her space, one hand going to her waist and the other threading through the hair at the nape of her neck. He has pulled his hood up too, so his face is half-shadowed, but she knows without a doubt that it’s him – she knows his touch, his scent, the way he breathes and moves and how his heat feels when he steps in close to her. Regina’s heart pounds in her ears as she looks up at him, running her palms up his soft leather tunic and further still until she can cup his neck, her breath catching when she slides one hand across the rough stubble of his jaw and he turns his face to the side to kiss her palm.

Regina takes this as an invitation to skirt her fingers across his lips, and he kisses the pads as she lightly smooths across them and down, her thumb stroking his chin as she leans closer and goes up on her tiptoes to softly, lightly, kiss his lips.

She ends the kiss almost immediately, refusing to let it escalate further until she figures out what she’s going to do. She needs to keep her composure, needs to keep it together - she can have this one, innocent kiss and then make a rational decision. It doesn’t have to go further than this. Her other hand is wrapped around the back of his neck though, her nails biting into his hairline, betraying the soft control of her kiss as she eases back from him. Her legs feel like jelly and she wishes he would pick her up so she didn’t feel like she was about to slide down the wall.

He catches her eyes and licks his lips as she settles back, and this is it - she is certain he’s going to kiss her, he’s going to _really_ kiss her. She wants him to, oh, how she wants him to, but - _oh god_ \- she’s so weak for him; if he starts kissing her, she won’t be able to stop, she knows she won’t, and then she’ll sleep with him, because - _gah-ahhd_ \- she wants him so much - _jesus_ \- and she doesn’t know what comes next. She’s not married to him anymore, they don’t have an agreement in place, she has no idea if they are even _friends_ at this point, and there is this little shred of her propriety that’s hanging on for dear life, screaming at her to have some self-respect.

Robin leans in, his intention to kiss her obvious, and she takes a quick anticipatory breath - leaning toward him, then pulling up at the last second as she panics and changes her mind. His fingers tighten in her hair and at her waist but he doesn’t close the distance between their lips, instead, Robin bumps her nose with his in what is almost _worse_ than a kiss, because it’s innocent, sweet, and such a _them_ thing to do that it has her heart aching for him to wrap her up in his arms and make it all better.

“What can I do?” he whispers, rubbing his nose against hers, moving his hands so he is cupping her face. “How can I show you what you mean to me, my darling?” he kisses the tip of her nose. “Tell me what you require - there is _nothing_ I won’t do to prove my devotion to you.”

“Robin,” she rasps, her fingers twisting in the front of his tunic. “Stop, please, you’ve already, I just, _jesus_ -” She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “How can we just forget everything that’s happened and go back to being what we were?”

“I love you, Regina, do you still love me?” he asks, his voice so serious.

Regina nods and answers him honestly, her entire heart certain about this. “I love you, I have never stopped loving you. I love you, Robin, even when I hate you.”

Robin tips her face up, and Regina locks eyes with him in the pale evening light. “There is no going back - and I don’t want to go back.” He gives her a small smile. “I want to go _forward_ , I want something _new_ , I want something _better_ \- no forced marriages or titles or arrangements.” He takes her hand and pulls it up, places it over his heart as he puts his hand over her heart. Robin looks in her eyes as he gives her that incredibly soft, sweet smile - the one that crinkles his eyes and makes him look so, _so_ handsome, the smile he makes when he’s both nervous and hopeful as he asks her, “Are you willing to try that with me? Are you willing to go on a new adventure?”

 

 


	30. Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the last chapter. There's smut here, and some, but not all, of it is anal.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Acceptance

 

 

The camp of the Merry Men is exceptionally well hidden in Sherwood Forest, and much to Regina’s delight and surprise, at the very center of it is the largest apple tree – one of the red delicious variety – that Regina has ever seen in her life. It takes her breath away when she sees it, its beauty apparent even in the darkness of night, and she stops so short to stare at it that Robin actually bumps into her from behind as she looks up at it in awe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she sighs.

Robin comes around to stand beside her, and when he murmurs, “Stunning, in every way,” she turns to look at him, pleased that he’s come to love apple trees as much as she does.

Only, he’s not looking at the tree – he’s looking at _her_.

Regina feels her face heat with the compliment, her heart doing a silly flip in her chest as she drops her eyes and smiles shyly. After a moment Robin takes her hand and says quietly, “Come.”

She follows behind him, her heart hammering in anticipation the entire way, until they finally get to where he’s leading her.

She tries, she really, truly tries, but she honestly thinks he’s joking and it just slips out.

“Robin, that’s a tent.”

“Well, yeah,” he laughs softly, holding back the flap to the entrance. “What did you expect, a three-story mansion?”

“You want me to sleep on the ground? In the dirt with the insects and the woodland beasts?” She feels like her eyebrows might be touching her hairline, but he can’t possibly be serious about this. Is this _really_ where he’s been sleeping for _six months_?

“Not on the ground,” he says defensively, dropping the flap of the tent and straightening up, his face serious. “On a straw bedroll. That’s an important difference, you know.”

Regina laughs at the absurdity of the situation. She may not live in a castle or wear a tiara every day, but she _is_ a royal, and certainly more refined than _this_. “And what’s next? I suppose you’d have me bathe in the river and use pinecones for money?”

Robin’s face reddens, and his expression turns sour as he runs his hand over his face. She’s not sure what she expected when he told her that he and his men had set up a secret camp in the forest, but she didn’t think he had _literally_ meant it was a _tent_ camp. She’s going to have to do something about that once they figure out what the hell it is they’re doing in the long run. He can’t possibly be happy living like this can he? Like a… peasant? Like a vagabond? A hundred uncertainties swirl through her head and just as she’s starting to think she’s going to have to release some fire to calm herself, she feels his hand on her cheek, his touch soft and soothing, and when she opens her eyes he’s looking into hers as he says, “We’ll sort this out together, darling, but for now, can you give me just a moment and a touch of patience?”

Regina nods warily and Robin darts inside a different tent, then comes back out with a large pack and an armful of blankets. He takes her hand with his free one and tugs her reluctantly inside of his own tent, where he sets down his items, then turns to her and says, “The men are all in town tonight, so we’re the only two here. I’ve got plenty of blankets for us, and _two_ extra bedrolls to keep you off the ground. That way, at least if you have to lay with the insects and the animals with your head in the dirt, at least you’ll get to do it as comfortably as I can possibly make it for you.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“Or,” he says, stepping into her, circling his arms about her waist as he tucks his face into her neck, his lips working lightly against her pulse point then down along her jawline, “We can walk all the way back to town, where we can hope that the inn has a room available tonight, though at this late hour we’ll be lucky enough to be able to wake the innkeeper just to place such a request.” He sucks hot kisses just under her chin, then captures her lips, tightening his arms on her waist as he pulls her in close, and Regina kisses him back with enthusiasm, sucking at his lips, tilting her head and opening her mouth for him, flicking her tongue against his as he deepens their kiss. She starts to wrap her arms around his shoulders but he pulls back, nipping her bottom lip sharply as he says, “The choice is yours, love.”

She sighs, pouting, and takes a moment to look around the little tent, admitting that it isn’t actually _that_ bad. It doesn’t smell dirty or anything, and it appears to be clean and organized. The floor is even covered with canvas, except for a small metal ring in the center where a fire can be made, and his bedroll is tucked to one side with a heaping pile of blankets on it. She doesn’t want to waste any more time running back and forth to town, and she doesn’t want to spend a bunch of energy teleporting when she could be using her energy tonight for _other_ things, so she lets him make up her shabby little bed, noticing he’s left himself just a single ratty blanket on his own bedroll, which happens to be placed between hers and the entrance – clearly so he can protect her should someone attempt to enter. He’s adorable in the way he’s trying to take care of her – _god she loves him_ – and when he’s done with the setup, looking at her like he’s a little desperate for her approval, she tugs him to her by the lapels of his tunic and kisses him.

Kissing him is just like she remembers – his lips are smooth and firm, the soft scratch of his beard is a perfect contrast against her chin and cheeks as she wraps her arms around his neck. Regina sucks softly on his top lip, sighing against him, wanting to whine into his mouth in desperation for him but not wanting to give herself away, trying to be a lady about it but not quite sure how long she’s going to be able to hold out. Robin’s hands are at her hips, his fingers flexing but not exploring, and it is he who separates them, presses his forehead to hers and says quietly, “Come lay beside me awhile, darling – we should probably talk.”

She takes his hand but can’t help herself – she makes a circular motion with her other hand, channeling a transfiguration spell, and with a slow-moving coil of purple smoke, Regina turns the shoddy bedding into that of a thick, cushy fur for them to lay on, several plush pillows, and two thick blankets to cuddle beneath. Robin turns to her and grins broadly, but Regina starts moving, puts her hands on his chest and walks him backward until he reaches the edge of their new bed, where she gently starts to push him down.

He sinks down slowly, but he grabs the backs of her thighs as he does so and pulls her down on top of him so that she’s straddling him, and – _oh jesus_ – that’s it; there’s no time for talking, say goodbye to any resistance – Regina has her man between her thighs again and she’s never, ever letting him go.

She crashes her mouth to his, standing up tall on her knees and pressing her lips down hard against his, her hands cupping his scruffy jaw as her need for him consumes her. His hands are on the backs of her thighs, tugging her tighter to him as she slides her hands down his throat, then up through his short hair, tugging his head back so she can nip and lick down the column of his throat as he lets out this deep, low rumble in his throat that she feels in a place way up inside her lower belly that she _knows_ is going to make her wet before she actually feels the evidence of it.

Robin moves his hands to her ass, and it breaks her concentration for a split second, his firm grip making her press her back into his big hands as he kneads her round, firm muscles, and she grinds down on his lap, rolling her hips against him, her chest bumping against his as she drops her head back, giving him the opening he was apparently waiting for to get his mouth on her neck. He licks and sucks down the curve of it, then she feels his hands at her cloak, feels the weight of it relieved from her, then the jerk of the buttons being slipped through the holes on the front of her jacket as she grinds on him.

Robin gets her jacket open quickly and she has only a black silk camisole beneath, so when he tugs her jacket down her arms, her chest breaks into gooseflesh, nipples hardening as the cold spring air turns the silky fabric cool against her skin. Robin palms her breasts through her shirt and she huffs out a hot breath, her hands covering his, squeezing with him, her own fingers teasing over her nipples in the gaps between his fingers as he massages her plump, full swells.

“ _Oh god_ ,” he breathes against her neck, “Dunno how I went so long without these perfect tits in my hands.” He squeezes her again and starts pressing kisses along the neckline of her shirt.

“ _Mouth_ ,” she gasps, forcing his hands to squeeze her again, then _again_. “Put your mouth on me.”

Regina knows she’s rocking her hips against the bulge in Robin’s pants, massaging her breasts right along with him, and begging him to put his mouth on her, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed of herself. She’s too desperate. She feels like she’s on fire all over.

Robin tugs her shirt down to expose her breasts, and he immediately latches onto her right nipple, not even trying to tease her. She moans loudly, a wanton, slightly broken up _Ah-ahhh! God!_ spilling from her lips as he suckles on her, his other hand palming and smoothing over her other breast, pinching lightly on her nipple, alternating tiny, light little pinches around and around the tip, making her squirm against him, wet heat pooling, soaking her panties as she drops her head back, her clit throbbing as she clenches with need, wanting him in her but loving the stimulation on her breasts way too much to ask him to change anything.

Robin sucks hard on her nipple, tugging and rolling it, never letting up the pressure, swirling around and around as the throbbing pleasure shimmers through her. When it almost gets to be too much, he lets it slip from his lips, switching to the other side and toying with her other nipple, licking and flicking it with his tongue, teasing her relentlessly this time, this nipple so neglected, needing to be sucked, needing that hard pull, already having been played with by his fingers while the other side was given such immediately satisfying pleasure. The nipple he so generously mouthed has cooled now, is frigid and hard in the chilly air, is almost stinging with the cold, while the opposite nipple undergoes sweet torture – warm, quick flicks, light sucks, soft kisses, even nuzzles of his nose against her, but absolutely nothing more – pushing her to whine, to pull at his hair, to tug at his head while he grins and chuckles against her chest and runs his tongue along the bottom swell of her breast and asks, “Something you need, darling?”

“Please,” she begs, thrusting her chest toward him, trying to line her nipple up with his mouth. Robin places a soft kiss to the tip and she whines a soft, _ohh-hhhhoo, pleeease._

“Please what?” he teases.

She’s panting so hard it’s difficult to make the words. She wants to – enjoys this power play he likes to put her through – it’s just that she can’t quite catch her breath to do it. “Suck on me, my, please, oh, baby, please, suck my nipple.”

Robin smirks at her and says, “Alright, love,” then he sucks on her _other_ nipple – the cold one, which is wonderful and agonizing all at once.

Regina lets out a soft wail into the dark tent, grinding her hips down against him, her hands clutching the back of his head as he pulses the suction on her sensitive tip, bringing the blood flow quickly to the surface. Oh god - _ohhh jesus -_ ohh that’s so good, soooo good. _Shittt_.

Robin strums the backs of his fingers across her other nipple and she sobs, _loudly_ , curling her body forward so hard that she pulls herself from his mouth with a slick _smack_ of his lips as he - _oh the bastard -_ _he laughs_ , before he - _ah-ah-oh god - oh jesus - shit shit shit –_ he strums across the other nipple again.

“Please, please suck _this one!”_ she pleads holding her breast up to him as if he doesn’t already know exactly what she’s talking about.

He pauses, takes a hard look at what she’s doing, and this heated look crosses his face as he moans low in his throat and rumbles, “Oh, _fuck._ That’s it – that’s my girl, _christ_ ,” then he finally, mercifully, blissfully, puts his mouth on her poor neglected nipple and sucks.

The second he starts to pulse the pressure of his mouth on her, she very nearly comes. Which is ridiculous – that she might come from _just this_ – without his hands anywhere near her lower _parts_ , but _god,_ she’s so aroused, she _knows_ she’s soaked, she can’t stop grinding on him, trying to find a way to rub her clit against him through her pants, and her nipples are so, so, so sensitized, her stomach, chest, and back thoroughly stroked and soothed by his big hands, _goddd_ – it’s heaven, and she really would not mind coming like this, wouldn’t fight it at all if that tingle in her clit started to turn into something more.

Suddenly, Robin pulls his mouth from her with this frustrated noise, his arms going tight around her waist as he hugs her to him, then rolls them so he’s laying on top of her, her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms tucked in against his chest as he presses his face into the pillow. She feels his chest shake against her for a moment, and she’s confused and a quite irritated that he stopped when she was so close to getting something that was starting to feel suspiciously like it might turn into an orgasm, but then he pulls up and when she can finally see his face, he’s grinning, and _laughing_.

“What is wrong with you?” she snaps, the man is insane. What could he _possibly_ be laughing about?

He calms slightly, reaches up and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear as he smiles sheepishly and confesses, “With you rubbing all over me and making those hot little sounds and shoving your tits in my face like that, _christ,_ I was about a second away from making a mess in my trousers.”

Her annoyance immediately abates, replaced with a little swell of pride. “These trousers?” she asks, mock innocently as she rolls her hips up, eliciting a needy little moan from him.

He drops his body weight on her to stop her from moving as he groans, “ _Ohh, fuckkk._ ” He huffs out a breath, and another soft laugh, then grins and continues, “And I was just thinking, at least the last time you made me come like a schoolboy, I had the excuse of having been asleep for the first part of it. But I’ve got nothing to blame this time, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get inside of you for at least a few strokes, after a six-month absence of being denied this tight, hot little cunt. _God_ , I may never stop fucking you.”

Regina clenches in response to his filthy words, arching her back to rub her chest against his, wanting to get him inside of her, wanting his naked body pressed against hers – but then she remembers that they said they should probably talk. She frowns and reaches up to stroke his brow.

“I missed you so much,” she says honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand how you felt about me, that I didn’t try to talk to you about it. Sometimes my temper is… a little too reactive. I don’t always think clearly when I’m hurt or angry.”

Robin smirks. “Oh? Is that right?” He teases. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She tries to be offended but can’t be. He has certainly seen what she is capable of when her temper gets the best of her.

Robin presses a gentle kiss to her lips and says, “Well, uh - I’m sure you’ll be shocked when I tell you this - but my elocution skills could use some polishing too. So, we’ve both something to work on, yeah?”

She grins, unable to resist, “Do you even know what elocution means?”

He has the good nature to laugh, then he kisses her and says, “Just because I can’t speak to _you_ like a scholar, doesn’t mean I’m actually a simpleton. _You_ make me nervous.”

“Why?” she asks, truly curious as she strokes her hands up and down his back.

Robin grows serious as he smooths his thumb over the apple of her cheek and tells her, “Because I want to keep you.” His voice is soft, “And anyone I’ve ever wanted to keep, I’ve lost.”

“Well, I’m not _just_ anyone,” she reassures him, bringing her hands up over her head and settling them palms up, letting her magic flare around them, lighting up the interior of the tent with a hazy purple glow as she casts a protection spell around his tent that no one – not even Maleficent can break. “Let me show you,” she whispers, then takes a chance and tries something, something she has read about, something she has heard about, but has never seen.

Regina reaches up and touches him – cups his neck with her magic still glowing in her hands, the magic that typically works defensively, the same magic she used when her mother grabbed her that caused the other woman to gasp in pain and let go of her. Regina lets Robin feel the energy that makes up that _extra_ part of her soul, that special piece that makes her uniquely _her_ , that makes her more than _just_ Regina.

Robin shivers under her touch, the purple of her magic running across his skin in little glittery sparks, fizzing and jumping across each individual hair, running in the lines of his hands like water, catching on his breaths like smoke, reflecting in his pupils like dark starry nights.

Regina watches as her magic flows through and around him, watches as he doesn’t fight it at all, just lets it run all over him with that little lopsided smile on his face, obviously confused but not a hint of pain in his expression as she strokes his neck softly and lets the magic flow and flow, and she shivers under the soothing release that is more comforting than any exercise she has _ever_ practiced with Mal.

 _This_ is what it is supposed to feel like when you pair the physical with the magical, she thinks. This is what she has read about – the combination of her aura with his, the melding of mind, body, and magic – their compatibility so aligned that his body doesn’t realize that her magic is unnatural to him, and her magic recognizes him when it should not. Another rushing flare of energy washes through her, another soothing magical release relaxes her further, her eyes half closed as it flows across his body in that beautiful soft purple glow, and she sighs, at peace with it, accepting it.

Robin takes a deep breath and brings a hand up to stroke her dark hair out of her eyes as he whispers, “My god, you’re incredible,” and she suddenly needs to see him, needs to see _all of him_. Regina needs him inside of her, needs him to claim her, needs him to claim every part of her the way that she is claiming him.

“Please,” she rasps, sliding her hands down the collar of his shirt, pushing at the fabric, not thinking clearly – just _needing_ – wanting him against her as fast as possible. _God_ , she needs his skin on hers, _needs_ it, _needs it now_. “Please, Robin,” she begs, reaching for the hem of his shirt, her hands shaking, her entire body trembling beneath him as she tugs and tugs, then gives up and starts yanking at his belt instead.

“Alright, my darling, it’s alright,” he tells her comfortingly, pushing himself up onto his knees as he yanks his tunic over his head, followed quickly by his undershirt. She’s completely unhelpful – the second his chest is bared to her she presses her hands and mouth to him, her palms rubbing all over him, stroking his smooth, warm skin – _god, he smells so good_ – how can he have slept in the dirt for six months and still smell like pine soap, and leather, and _him,_ and just _oh-so-good_?

The clink of metal upon metal as he unbuckles his belt has her clenching her inner muscles in anticipation, has her nipping the muscular curve of his pec and scratching her nails lightly along his ribs as he opens his pants. Her excitement level jumps further still as he shifts to tug his pants off and his erection bumps her arm, and - _oh god -_ she can’t resist - his thick cock is so hot and smooth - she seizes the opportunity to take him in her hand. She wants him in her mouth, even starts to press her other hand against his chest to urge him onto his back so she can do just that, her mouth watering with the thought; oh god, she misses the hot salty slide of him against her tongue, misses the way he moans and the tangle of his fingers in her hair as he pants and whines for her – but he pulls her hands away, his own hands grabbing for the hem of her camisole.

She remembers then, that she’s still dressed – _jesus –_ she still has her shirt, pants, and boots all on, so she stops fighting him and tries to be helpful until they’re finally both naked under the heavy blankets she conjured for them, his larger body on top of hers, pressed together from ankles to chest as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

There is energy between them now that wasn’t there before – a current of her magic that hums between them as he slides his tongue into her mouth and rubs her clit with the pad of his middle finger, her knee bent and tipped outward to give him extra room to touch her, one of her hands in his hair – her nails scratching lightly - and the other firmly squeezing his ass. She wants him inside of her but he’s resisting, choosing instead to work her up gradually, to rub slow, firm circles over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs like she isn’t already dripping wet, like her panties weren’t soaked all the way through, like her thighs aren’t sticky with how wet she already was for him when he peeled off her pants and made a quip about not needing to bathe in the river when he had _enough to bathe with right here_.

Robin gives her a few more deep, tongue filled kisses, then slides down her body, pausing at her chest to suck each of her nipples in turn, bringing them to stiff, aching peaks, thumbing across them, pinching, and twisting until she’s squirming under him, conflicted over whether to push him away or ask him for more. Her nipples are overstimulated – unused to so much attention, but he feels so good, and his tongue, his hot breath, the flick of his thumbs and even the hard, long-held pinch of his fingers makes her wet for him, makes her gasp with arousal and writhe beneath him.

He moves down on his own though, sucking hot kisses across her stomach, licking and nipping at her hip bones, laving his tongue down the hinge of her hip and thigh, kissing her mound, _almost_ licking her clit then shying away. He runs his tongue along each of her outer lips, then sucks carefully on each one, before he settles more comfortably between her thighs, pushing her legs apart with his shoulders as he asks her, “Could you do that ‘fire in your hands’ exercise, while I go down on you?”

She’s not sure why he wants her to do that – she certainly feels relaxed, and she tells him as much.

“I just uh, I have a hunch,” he says quietly. “Humor me?”

Regina fights the urge to roll her eyes. Robin and his big ideas during sex - it’s always something. But she supposes this is better than some of the other strange things he’s wanted her to do, so she cocks an eyebrow at him but turns her palms face up next to her and creates fire in the left, the release of magic soothing as usual, then takes a deep breath -

Robin runs his tongue through the center of her sex and she jerks under the feeling, a surprised little cry of pleasure falling from her lips as her mouth falls open and her breath rushes out. He does it again, and her cry turns into a low moan – _ohhh goddd_ – that’s so, so good. His tongue is sooo hot and wet and warm against her – _ohhh jesus_. This is what she needs – _mmm_ – yes, definitely this - _god yes_.

She takes another deep breath, arching her back as he – _ohhh goddd_ \- rubs her clit with his tongue, then she makes fire in her right palm. He sucks on her clit just as the flames flare up, and the release of magic combined with the pull of his lips against her clit makes her breath catch, makes her moan and her hips jerk, her legs shaking for a second as the intensity of the fire flashes higher, the color of the flames changing from red to orange to yellow as the fire burns hotter.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” he praises, pulling his mouth from her and replacing his lips with the pad of his thumb to rub firm, fast circles on her clit. “Look how the flames burn hotter when I suck your clit, darling.” He drops his mouth back to her clit to make his point, licking and flicking and pulling on the little bud as she squirms under him, gasping as the hot pleasure builds, her nipples peaked and the magic flaring out of her palms, changing from dark to bright yellow as her arousal spikes.

He pulls his lips from her again and says, “You’re dripping, _christ,_ look how you’re dripping for me, your clit is _so_ swollen, darling, and your need is pouring from you – the fire in your palms is so bloody bright. Let’s see how bright we can make it, shall we?”

And she has no idea what he’s talking about but she nods anyway, tells him, “Yes,” and “Please, oh god, please,” as she rocks her hips up, trying to encourage him to touch her more.

Robin returns to flicking at her clit with his tongue, teasing her, laving the flat of his tongue down to dip into her but never penetrating her deeply as she pants for more, unable to touch herself or him due to the fire that’s essentially binding her hands _and_ acting as an indicator light for him, changing color the more worked up he makes her. Her clit is throbbing, _aching_ , so sensitive, and when he finally gives in and slides – _oh thank god!_ \- two fingers into her – completely foregoing one and just going all in with two – she parts her thighs even wider for him, planting her heels into the thick rug and – _ah ah ah_ \- tipping her hips up as she moans her gratitude and throws her head back in relief while her g-spot – _mmm_ \- finally gets some much-needed attention.

He immediately starts to thrust his fingers, adjusting the angle for her until – there, _there!_ – he hits it, that super sensitive spot that sends sharp pleasure shooting through her lower belly, wetness flooding from her sex, the fire in her hands changing from yellow to green as he – _ah ah ah ah –_ focuses in and taps repeatedly against it, simultaneously rubbing her clit for her as her legs start to shake in earnest.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps, and Regina manages to glance down at him through the eerie green glow, her breasts bouncing lightly as he thrusts his fingers and rubs her clit for her. “Your pussy’s soaked, you’ve ruined this rug, love, god, look at the green flames you’ve made for me, you can’t hide what a hungry little cunt you have for me like this, can you? Can’t hide how much you need my cock when it’s on display for all the world to see.”

“Need to,” she gasps, trying to tell him – _goddd_ \- it’s so good, she’s so aroused it’s almost painful, but he keeps switching speeds, he keeps holding her off, and she needs to come. The color of the fire is evidence enough of how badly she needs to get off. “Need to come, baby, please.”

“Not yet, darling, not yet,” he tells her, working his fingers fast-fast-fast, pounding her g-spot and rubbing quick-quick-quick-quick over her clit for several seconds as she squeezes her eyes shut and arches hard, a sob breaking from her lips as she arches, her clit pulsing under the assault, almost there - _oh god –_ just one more second – then he _smacks!_ her ass and the pleasure dissipates, the feeling all rerouted to the sting of her ass cheek just before she can come.

The flame in her hand is light blue now.

“Robinnn, I need you inside of me,” she pleads.

“I am inside of you, darling,” he argues, working his fingers faster.

Regina moans as he strokes her g-spot, the flame in her hand darkening from light blue to cerulean. “I need your _cock_ inside of me,” she clarifies, gritting her teeth, wanting to hold out until he slides into her, wanting to come on him, wanting to come while she feels that smooth, thick stretch of him inside of her.

“You want my cock inside of you where, love?” he asks, speeding up on her clit, rubbing fast from side to side, his fingers blurring with the motion. Regina can’t even catch a full breath, her body is shaking so hard as she denies herself; if she breaks her concentration for a second she’s going to come.

The fire burns from cerulean to navy blue.

“Robin,” she manages, her voice firm, “ _Fuck me_. Fuck me right now. Fuck me so I can come on your cock, because I’m _going_ to come in the next _second_ , whether you’re inside of me or not, and I really, _really_ want you to be, baby, I really, _really_ want you to be.”

Robin murmurs a quiet _bloody-fucking-christ-in-hell_ as he quickly pulls his fingers from her and, when he slides his thick cock inside of her and starts to thrust, steadily rubbing her clit with those smooth firm circles, his chest brushing the peaked tips of her breasts as she stretches her arms up above her head and the fire burns _hot-hot-hot_ – true to her word, _she comes._

Regina shudders violently, tremor after tremor wracking through her entire body, her back arching sharply enough that she’s vaguely aware of his arms wrapping tightly around her waist as he continues to fuck into her, her inner muscles clenching and releasing, over and over. Her legs shake, her breaths catch hard, she squeezes her eyes shut as the pleasure rushes through every nerve ending, starting in her sex and rushing up her spine, out her fingertips and flaring through the blue flames that continue to glow brightly in the palms of her hands.

She’s not done though, she knows he isn’t either, she can still feel him hard inside of her, stretching her _so good_ , and she wants more - god she’s greedy for him - she still wants _more_ somehow, so she rocks her hips up to him, fucking herself on him as she sucks kisses to his neck, scrapes her teeth across his skin and demands, “More, I need more.”

He groans into her neck and shifts up, getting to his knees and sitting back on his heels as he shoves her thighs apart, staring down at where he’s buried inside of her as he rasps, “Of course you do, you wanton tart, you cum-hungry harlot. You can’t get enough, you’re never satisfied with just one orgasm are you?” He starts rubbing her clit and thrusting slowly into her as he goads her. “Need me to fuck you some more? How’d you like it this time, love? Shall I put you on your belly and hold you down? Or shall I shove my cock down your throat like you wanted before and make you wait until after I’ve had a turn to come?”

Regina moans in spite of herself, but she knows what she wants, what she needs that will get her off so fast, and _so hard_ this second time. “Your fingers, please, dear,” she begs, “Use your fingers inside of me.”

“My fingers?” he challenges, giving her a sharp, punctuated thrust. “And just what am I supposed to do with this?” he thrusts again. “Tell it to wait while you get off again? That doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

Robin spreads her legs wider and starts stroking into her quickly, picking up a rhythm that feels so good, but it’s going to take a long time to work her back up like this, and she’s being selfish, she wants to come again _now_. As in _right now_. So, she does something - she suggests something - that she’s certain that he never thought she would.

“Put it in my ass,” she rasps, reaching for his hip to still him.

Robin immediately stops thrusting and looks directly into her eyes. She fights a smirk – that certainly caught his attention.

“I’m sorry?” he asks, looking dumbstruck.

“You heard me,” she says tilting her head to the side and giving him a knowing look, but she clarifies anyway, “Fuck my ass while you finger me.”

Robin opens his mouth, then closes it. He swallows, then opens his mouth again, looks down at where he’s currently fucking her, moans, strokes his hands over her smooth inner thighs and tips forward onto his hands as he asks, “Are you sure? I thought, after last time that you said it hurt? _Christ_ , Regina, I thought you’d never let me do that again.”

She actually feels a little bad for him, and she really doesn’t want to have a big conversation about all of _that_ right now – she wants to get off right now – so she just says “I _was_ sore, but if I’m being totally honest, you were acting like an ass, and I wanted to hurt you – I knew the best way to do that was to tell you that you’d hurt me.” She cringes. “I’m… sorry I mislead you about that. Overall, it was actually, it was… pretty fantastic.”

He looks a little shocked at her confession, but nods and says, “Well, that’s uh, that changes things then.” He smirks and runs his hand over her ass cheek, then gives her a light slap. “You’re a deceitful little thing aren’t you?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for a response, just squeezes her ass cheek and asks, “So, uh, you’re going to let me fuck your arse again, then? Right now?”

Regina rolls her eyes and teases, “Mmhmm, if you ever stop talking.”

Robin nods, “Right.” Then he promptly shuts his mouth.

She’s ready for him this time, knows what to expect and is nowhere near as afraid as she was the first time he fucked her this way, when she was certain that he was much too big to fit inside of her there, that he was going to split her apart, that there was no way she would feel pleasure from it. Except that it’s not painful – it’s just pressure, as long as he starts slow, which she trusts him to do, to push _slow, slow, slow_ against her back entrance as she lays on her back for him, her knees bent and tucked up in front of her as he spreads her cheeks and presses the head of his cock a little deeper into her.

“You’re less tense this time,” he tells her, “You’re making this so much easier on us, darling,” he praises her, stroking one hand up the back of her thigh as he scoots closer and repositions her legs, shoving a pillow under her to tip her hips up to him. “That’s it, that’s my girl, relax for me, and let me slide in. You know you want me to, know you want my cock in your arse love. Remember the way you came for me last time? Remember how your release dripped right out of you? _Fuck,_ that was hot.”

Oh, she remembers, _jesus_ she remembers. It’s a feeling she’s been completely unable to recreate. One that she’s anxious for now, one that she wants him to give her again. She remembers the way he stimulated her g-spot from the back, the way she clenched on nothing even though her body _thought_ there should be something for her to clench on. _God_. It’s the strangest and most erotic feeling, and she wants him to give it to her again.

Robin slides out a little and then back in again, asking her, “Can you give us some lube, darling?” and she smirks, performs the spell and instantly feels how that slickness makes things easier. Funny how a simple spell meant for getting yourself _out_ of tight spaces can also be used for putting things _into_ tight spaces.

He slowly, slowly pulls back, the slide of his cock an unfamiliar burn against her rear muscles, but he goes so slowly that her body doesn’t resist, she has time to relax, to adjust before he presses carefully back in, further this time, deeper, halfway, she thinks, _god he’s thick_ , then she feels his thumb on her clit, rubbing slowly, and her concentration slips from the discomfort and stretch at her rear, to the pleasurable tingling at her already swollen and sensitive folds, and her body gets all kinds of confused over whether she’s supposed to be feeling bad, good, or great.

“That smile for me, darling?” Robin rasps, his voice full of gravel, and Regina bites her lip, unaware that she had smiled in the first place.

“I hadn’t realized I was smiling, but – _mmm_ – yeah, it’s d – definitely for you, dear,” she reassures.

He carefully, slowly, works in and out of her ass, almost what could be considered a thrust now, so lubricated that she can feel it run down from where he’s penetrating her, but she doesn’t care, because it’s starting to lose that burn now, the stretch is starting to feel less awful and just more stimulating now, and his fingers on her clit are rubbing just right.

“You’re getting wet again for me,” he tells her, and she feels his fingers at her _proper_ entrance, teasing against her. He holds two fingers up to her, coated in her slippery need. “Look at you, you naughty girl,” his other hand rubs her clit and he slowly thrusts into her ass. “A cock in your arse and two fingers on your clit, and you’re dripping like I haven’t already given you an orgasm. Haven’t I been good to you, my darling? Haven’t I made you shake, and clench, and come on my cock?” he asks, circling her clit.

“Mmhmm,” she’s so turned on that her response is almost a purr from the back of her throat. Regina wiggles her hips, angling them just a little differently this time as he strokes into her ass, and _Oh, jesus! There, there, there!_ He hits her g-spot and they both pause with the realization.

“Shall I fill every hole for you this time, my darling?” he asks her. “Would you like to come with my cock in your arse, my fingers in your cunt, and my tongue in your mouth?”

“Oh fuck,” she says loudly, dropping her head back against the pillows, nodding, then looking back to him as she says, “Do it my dear, claim what is yours.”

“There is nothing I would like more,” is the last thing he says, before he slides his middle and ring fingers all the way up inside of her, and Regina loses the ability to think.

If she thought she knew what _full_ felt like before, she was only kidding herself. Because this is it. There is no comparison to what he’s doing to her right now.

His cock is buried in her ass – buried deep, so that when he thrusts, he gives her these short quick strokes that brush right against her g-spot from the backside. This alone is probably enough to get her off, she’s so sensitive anyway, has already come once from being stimulated against her g-spot, and this is only intensifying it, that hot, tingly burn inside of her a pleasurable fire that makes her so, _so_ wet for him that she would rock her hips up to him if she could.

But she can’t.

Because two fingers of his right hand are buried in her cunt, which is soaking – dripping wetness from the stimulation of his cock, but also from the _quick-quick-quick-quick_ thump of his fingers against her g-spot from _the opposite side_ , so that the stimulation is beyond constant – it’s positively relentless, no matter how she jerks her hips, or whines, or cries, or moans, or begs, or pleads, or arches. The wetness pours from her, she can’t speak, words are too much, and she can’t seem to come either – it’s just a white-hot burn that he keeps steady, steady, steady, so torturous but also so incredible that she never wants it to stop.

And then there’s his fingers on her clit, which rub smooth, firm, swirls, around and around and around, her inner lips red and swollen, the little bud hard under his fingers, pulsing and tingling, overly sensitive. He switches sometimes to rapid back and forth flicks of his fingers, or to up and down rubs, or to quick light taps of the pads of his fingers, all of which he stops the second she feels herself start to tighten up, feels that throbbing that tells her she’s about to come, _so close, so close, so close._

She has no sense of time. Has no idea how loud she’s being. Doesn’t know if she’s sweating, or what kind of mess she’s making of their bed, she can’t really hear anything and all she can see is the bright blue of his eyes as he watches her face and works her body to the edge over and over and over.

When she finally cannot take anymore, when there are tears running down the sides of her face that she doesn’t remember crying – not tears of sadness, not even of frustration – of arousal, she’s pretty sure, she stops begging, stops pleading, and she locks eyes with him as she tells him, “Robin. _Now_.”

He starts thrusting fast into her ass, her back arches as his fingers flurry over her clit, he curls his fingers in her hot cunt and rubs against her g-spot as he stimulates her from both sides, and _fuck-fuck-fuck_ when he leans forward and presses his lips to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth, the magic fire in Regina’s palms positively _flares._

The tent lights up with purple energy, the fire cascading from her hands and rushing up her arms, encasing the two of them as she comes apart, inner muscles contracting hard, clit throb-throb-throbbing, pleasuring shooting through her, wrapping her arms around him tightly, her hips bucking as she rides his hands and cock with his tongue stroking along hers, not bothering to breathe until he tears his mouth from hers and she takes a desperate, gasping breath. Her magic engulfs them, spirals over and through them, the ebony strands of her hair twisting and whipping in the vortex as Robin buries his face in her shoulder and sinks his teeth into her neck, a sharp bite that she is certain will bruise, his hips jerking as his free hand grabs her thigh and wraps her leg more firmly around his hip as he drives her into the ground, spilling inside her ass, while he sucks marks into her neck. At the last second, he pulls his fingers from dripping, soaked cunt and slips them into her mouth for her to suck clean, which she automatically does before she realizes what she’s just done, the salty tang not as bad against her tongue as she remembers, even when mixed with the coppery taste of his blood as she nips his fingers in retaliation.

Regina’s magic fades to a warm glow on their skin as they both come down, Robin softening inside of her before he slips out and starts to shift to the side. She wraps one arm around his neck and the other around his waist as she whispers, “Wait, stay,” so he moves so that he’s laying half on top of her, their limbs tangled together as she shifts under his bigger body, his hand cupping her breast and tracing the swell as they kiss, and cuddle, and slowly settle.

A while later, after a long snuggle and a short nap, Robin sets up their new chessboard for them to play their inaugural match. Regina is so touched when she sees the purple amethyst pieces he commissioned for her that their game gets significantly delayed while she thanks him with kisses, until they’re both breathless and one of them is crying (she refuses to admit that it’s her).

Eventually, they do get around to playing, and after several turns, Robin asks, “May I ask what happened there, with your magic, I mean? Why didn’t I get burned this time? I thought, after that time in the tub, that your fire would burn me to a crisp like everyone else.”

Regina takes Robin’s queen with her knight (she’s two turns from checkmating him now, no matter what he does), then runs her foot up his calf under the big, warm blanket and says, “Hmm, at one point, yes, you’d have been _quite_ crispy. But it appears that I…” her heart hammers wildly – such a silly reaction considering all the things they’ve said and done together at this point. “It appears that I love you so much, that even my magic considers you a part of me. A better half, if you will.”

Robin breaks into a huge grin that is so bright, she starts to laugh, and he lunges across the chessboard, knocking it over as he tackles her, grabs her face with both hands and starts kissing her all over – her forehead, lips, nose, cheeks, her lips again, brow, chin, her lips _again_. Finally, he slows his kisses, and says, “My darling, if either of us is the better of the two halves, it is _undoubtedly_ you."

“Of course it is,” she agrees.

Robin laughs, nods, and reaches over his shoulder to pull a small pouch from under his pillow ( _is that seriously where he’s hiding it?!_ ). He loosens the drawstring at the top of the bag and dumps the glowing object into his hand, giving it a good squeeze before he hands it to her.

She turns the object over a few times, then raises an eyebrow and meets his dark smirk with one of her own.

“So, Roni the Trickster,” he drawls, “How shall we torture my niece first?”

Regina mulls it over for a moment, then a slow smile spreads over her face, and she replies, “Well, Robin the Hood, how do you feel about sleeping curses and glass coffins?”

 

 

~END

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.


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